Innocence's journey
by d'elfe
Summary: Frances is a young lady of the 21st centuries and she travels through space and time thanks to a device that was given to her years ago. As she is transported to Weathertop on a very bad day, she meets four hobbits, a Ranger, and five creature that didn't have a bath for too long. That's a tenth walker story, hope you don't get bored about it ! Based on both movie and book.
1. Chapter 1 - Landing on Weathertop

Landing on Weather Top

Fear. Unconditional and hopeless fear. The feeling struck her like a fist in the chest and she staggered backwards, breathing heavily. As her mind tried to make sense of the feeling that constricted her chest, Frances realized that no sensible though could make its way to the surface of her mind. Cold shivers started to seize her body, and the panic threatened to overwhelm her forever. Trying to find an ancor in the pool of dark thoughts closing on her like the ocean on a drowning woman, Frances realized that there was nothing that could save her. In the void space that engulfed her in a hopeless state there was nothing to observe, nothing to understand, nothing to put her brain back online and pull her out of it. Her eyes were wide open with the intensity of the seizure, and try as she might the young woman could shake herself out of the catatonic state she was in.

As an intense screeching resonated in the void, Frances felt her knees buckle and she stumbled down, her hands coming to her hears in an attempt to protect her eardrums from the dreadful shrill. The cry was worse than a set of nails on a blackboard and its high pitched resonance cut through the bones like an ultrasound detonation. Pinned to the ground, Frances struggled dearly to resurface, but she could not manage to shake the panic out of her failing body.

Suddenly a cry resonated in the emptiness, and its flavor dug into the waves of agony to reach Frances' survival instinct. The humanity tried to dig their way into the fuzzy fog that had claimed France's spirit. As her consciousness started to resurface, Frances realized that the voice had shattered the glass bubble with its frantic prayer by triggering her inner instincts of protecting people. After her experience in the FBI service, following her two companions into situations that had nothing to envy to this one, the young woman had made a habit to rush to screaming people without thinking too much of the consequences. It was a part of who she was, and once more the would satisfy the impulse by climbing up the mushroom like hill, like this very first time when she had saved those two runners from a threat she could not fathom by hiding them in her wooden hide. This reckless move had been the point of origin of the whole story, her internship with FBI foreign agents and the finding of the blue rock and her destiny. Now was not a time to crouch back, the inner reason of her presence holding somewhere in her course of actions to interfere with the present situation.

In the darkness, the mount seemed so huge, and more somber even. As she attacked the flank with the ease of her climbing years and light weight, the young read head could still feel the dread trying to dissuade her from going on. Dark waves of despair and hopelessness were tingling her senses and trying to claim her back to the dark side. No matter how attractive the idea of turning catatonic again was Frances managed to shake herself, and she smiled. In the past, monsters and supernatural forces had crossed her way and she had naturally freaked like a girl, but today there was no way in hell she would fall back. This was a challenge, and Frances had never lost a bet, stubborn as she was. As the young woman climbed up swiftly, she decided to bury her survival instinct for a while. The dread was feeding on it, sending her images of horrible death in unknown dark hands, pushing her to reconsider her options. Too bad for the darkness that Frances had an iron will, and an arm length experience in the domain of fright from her previous encounters.

From the muffled cries that rose in the night some people seemed in a very hazardous situation and any help might be welcome. Pulling her senses out to like she had learnt in her meditation classes with the FBI, the young woman caught the smell or dying fire and salty food. What came next nearly crushed her with fear. There were several mobile points exuding death and such coldness that the young woman shuddered, nearly loosing her footing on the small promontory. The abominable presence of those beings was almost too strong to bear, but Frances repeated over and over that some people needed her, and she took off again. Climbing like a mad woman as the cries resonated again, mixing with the chalkboard torturous cries, she winced at the noise without stopping. Coming to an edge that seemed to surround the summit, Frances moved around boulder to assess the situation.

From where she was kneeling the view was less than encouraging. Even in the gloom her eyes could make out five cloaked forms, their silhouettes even darker than the rest of the thick shadows lurking around rock cropping. The macabre group was closing in on what seemed a gathering of children, but she could not exactly see how many of them. The distinctive ring of steel filled the air with its high pitched vibrations and Frances watched with astonished eye the disembodied cloaked leader brandish a sword that was big enough to split her in a single blow. Holding her breath while struggling against the panic effect that poured out of the monsters, the young woman grabbed one of her hidden knifes and picked up a heavy rock fitting her palm size. Yells resonated again and it rang her cue to act.

She needed to disorganized them and dig a hole in the tight formation if she wanted to get a chance to fight them one by one. Shutting down the little voice in her head that warned her of a probable imminent death and the shortage of escape options, the young woman stood up and threw the rock in a perfect trajectory, the projectile hitting hard the second spectrum on the left right over its head. There was no squirk, no sound, no scream, no sound issued when the rock found its mark, but the slow movement initiated by the group showed that the distraction had worked. The yelling kids were brandishing daggers to their opponent with an obvious lack of skill but their courage was impressive. It seemed almost like the dreadful ambiance had little effect on them. The brief pause in the cloaked forms seemed like a consultation with no words, and then suddenly the two lateral ghost detached themselves from the rest and turned around to face her.

'Damn', she though, there were two spectra ready to crush her but three remained on the little group and there was close to nothing she could do unless… The young woman pulled her daggers free and brandished them in front of her in a defensive position as her eyes frantically adjusted to the terrain. A low, frightening chuckle resonated in the air, chilling her to the bone. The voice was definitely not human, its tones empty and too low to be natural.

Please intimidate me more, said the young woman sarcastically so as to release the incredible pressure of darkness threatening to swallow her

This comment seemed to have an effect on the ghost who stopped advancing for a few instants, but they soon resumed their slow walk to circle the young woman whose back was to the cliff.

No answer, that's so rude!, she uttered, diverting the attention for half a second

Several cries from the little camping group saluted her arrival, raising some enthusiasm that did not last long since the three other spectra closed on them. Shouting started anew, and swift movement occurred at the back indicating that the attack had started all too soon. There was little time left, and Frances challenged the two other cloaked forms with a witty remark. As silently as eagles fall on their prey, the enemies rushed to her, probably hoping to cast her away without breaking a sweat. However, Frances had other plans. As soon as the two forms came close enough she moved aside, disappearing form the line of attack, and jumped madly to a boulder, then another, and landed on the top of an outcrops that towered a few meters over the battle field. Screeching in frustration, the two forms collided slightly before turning back to her and attempting an attack from their current position. The young lady ducked and dodged the long sword, concentrating on the movement of the weapons instead of her rising panic. From her standing spot she could easily join the other groups, and the two spectra could not reach her comfortably at the same time since the first one protected her from the second one. As the sword clung again against the rock, missing her by a few inches, Frances slammed her heel hard against the blade and stuck it between her foot and the rock. Hissing, the creature attempted to pull it away, and Frances imprinted a rotation movement on the blade while throwing one of her knifes right into her enemy's hood. The trick worked, and the cloak staggered backward while screeching, losing its grip on the handle and freeing the sword that rotated inwards towards his opponent. Frances gripped the sword and lifted its tremendous weight, gritting her teeth at the strain it caused to her forearm muscles.

The second spectrum was coming for her at full speed, and the young woman darted of in direction of the main fight, hoping to circle the scene from the edge and protect the kids from the rest of the ghost. However, her now pissed off opponent was quick on her tail, and she had to turn around in order to exchange a few blows with the thing. Its strikes were powerful, and the weight of the stolen weapon dangerous enough to send her off balance. If she had not been dancing her whole life within trees, Frances would probably have fallen over the ridge of the wall she was strolling over, but her equilibrium kept her in place while she swung the huge weapon. However, the wraith was much stronger and faster than she was, and were it not for her higher spot death would have come much faster.

She knew she was firefighting, and it was only a question of time before the sharp blade cut her into half, so she detangled herself from the wall, retreating back into the ruins before leaping upwards again and running away from the creature. 'Damn, it doesn't look good', she thought. Now lost amongst old rocks, the young woman panted heavily, wondering how long she had before that thing got to her, and how she could come up behind the group without falling to her death. Terrified to death, she could not help but stare at every boulder, fearing that the frightful creature might pop up from behind any of them. It was her worst nightmare taking form. The things she feared as a kid were now really lurking in the dark, waiting for the good opportunity to get to her, their form nearly immune to her attacks while she felt freezing from the inside at their approach. There was nothing more terrifying that the waiting, and she decided that she had had enough of jumping every second, so she braced herself. As a rush of air cold as death tangled her messy hair, something unexpected happened.

First of all, one of the kids cried in agony, and his voice did not ring totally like the one of a kid. It felt more mature, but the loud screeching than filled up the void prevented Frances from analyzing the cry further. A particular smell rose, and weird light started to dance around the corner of a pillar, sending shadows all around her. Lifting up the heavy blade, the young woman gathered what was left of her courage and sprang forward in the battle field, the noises indicating what a mess it had become. As she came into view of the open area, only a hidden reflex saved her from the tip of the blade that should have pierced her heart had she not rolled on the ground. Her stalker had been waiting in silence, and her movement caused him to lose balance. Pissed to death, the young woman felt her chest swell with anger, and she furiously took advantage of the chaos to stab her sword into his back, sending the cloaked form over the edge of the cliff.

- Yey!, she screamed in triumph, the cheerful tone of her voice totally out of place

Around her hell had broken loose, and the object of this chaos twirled a burning torch around with enraged movements as his other hand wielded a single handed sword. In the ambient darkness it was difficult to get a good view of the man who had just jumped into the mess, but his fighting skills were not to be ashamed of. Setting into fire one of the spectrum, he skillfully attacked the others with the flames and most of them fell back. There was however still one of them bending over the group of kids, and Frances rushed forward, her heavy sword lifted in front of her. Seeing his companions fall back and the young lady coming to him, the ghost merged with the shadows and disappeared without even trading a blow. Loud screeching resonated again as other cloaks took fire, and suddenly the anguish was gone, the dread curtain tearing apart while the torch came closer. It seemed like her heart could finally dilate again, letting the blood pump into her veins without clenching helplessly in her chest. Frances breathed in and out, letting the anger she had built up in response to the fear pour out of her in low waves.

The dark haired man eyed her suspiciously for one short instant as he caught his breath. The sword was getting heavy, and the young woman let the blade fall, showing her surrender to the man who had saved them all. His grey eyes studied her stance, and followed the steel weapon as it clang to the ground with a ringing noise. He was tall, and strongly built, but most of all he seemed extremely powerful. His outfit and his posture screamed wildness, but there was wisdom in his glance. His intimidating form rushed passed her before throwing his torch away and joining to the little group. Moaning could be heard from one of the little beings, and the three others were pressed together, totally panicking from the injury their friend had gotten during the fight. It was weird to contemplate adults' face over such small bodies, but it seemed that the group was not composed of children after all. All of them had mid long curly hair that hid most of their faces. As Frances came closer, two of them watched her approach as if in awe, their staring interrupted by another cry from their black haired companion lying on the ground.

As the last one was voicing their concerns, the dagger that had stabbed his friend disintegrated into the man's hands. Throwing the hilt away, the stranger said in a low voice:

- He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade

- Do something!, exclaimed the little rusty guy

- He is beyond my skill to heal, claimed calmly the strange man. He needs elvish medicine

Lifting up the little guy in one swift movement, the traveler's eyes fell down on the young woman and for once he was totally at loss about what to do. His gaze was judging her from head to toe, and if the previous demonstration had not been enough the way she held herslef indicated that she was a fighter, if a little bit unsure of her skills. In his eyes she seemed very young, but the courage she had shown for facing the wraith pushed him to trust her. However, much was at stake, and it was no light decision to take. Time was coming short for the hobbit who had been stabbed, and the wraith would not give up until they had the ring. There was no obviously no time for interrogation unless he could make his mind while advancing. Maybe he could just go and she would join some companions on her way?

- Do you travel alone?

- Yes, stated Frances, unsure about what to say

She needed to stay with the group if she wanted to have a chance to complete her mission, but the violence of the attack and the emergency of the situation did not help her cause. How could she convince them that she only wanted to help? Her opponent in this staring contest was obviously wondering who she was and what her true purpose was. His grey eyes were boring holes into her, but he could not fathom why a woman would travel alone in these troubled times. Leaving her behind would have been safer for the group, but he could not do that in good conscience and leave her to die. There was no way she could make it after standing against the wraiths.

- Can you keep up with a quick pace?, he asked, startling her with the implicit offer

- I will

- Then come, we'll talk on the way

The confrontation had ended so swiftly that Frances stood motionless for a split of a second. This meant she had a chance, and it would be time soon enough to prove trustworthy. Grabbing her bag at the bottom of the hill, the young woman hurried after the little company who was already disappearing into the darkness.

The pace had indeed been quite intense, and for the first few hours in the dark Frances had been struggling to keep up. The hobbits, names Sam, Merry and Pippin, were carrying torches for their own protection while Strider carried Frodo. The nickname would have made her laugh if she had not been rationing her air intakes. Obviously, the ranger, as they called him, had dismissed the interrogation until quieter times, and the young lady had tried to be as invisible as possible while gathering information from the chattering of the two rusty haired hobbits. Asking questions might have raised suspicion, and she needed as much intake on geography and history of the place before trying to build an identity of her own. She had no idea of the geometry of this planet, but it seemed obvious that it wasn't her reality from the sheer existence of different races.

After several hours of night hiking the young woman knew everything about a place called the Shire where the little ones had been living their whole life, but it was about all she would know about these lands before the ranger started interrogating her. Needless to say that she had no idea what kind of story she would be able to pull up, especially since he seemed to be quite acquainted with the history and geography of the place. Apart from being totally intimidating, the economy of his gestures showed that he was used to travel, and there was no way she could manage to cheat on somebody as aware of this world as a traveler would be. 'Well shove it', she thought, she was a terrible liar anyway and would have to find something that came very close to the truth.

The little company was making the first real halt after walking all day long and erratically stopping a few dozens minutes here and there for food. The little ones had been too worried for their companion to ask too many questions, except for her name, and the breaks had been too short to engage a in a real conversation. Nicely enough, the company had shared with her dried meat and a few grains since she had not much to sustain herself. Frances had always taken long to eat, and most of the time she finished her meal while walking, the effort becoming quite difficult to bear. The strict diet was getting fast on her nerve, she who had the habit to always go around with cakes or sugar in case her blood levels dropped, had nothing but an apple to share for the day. Soon enough her short supplies of chocolate would be depleted, and her sugar tooth already felt totally hopeless in this endless walk. However, more than the pace and lack of sweet food, the dreaded moment when Strider would start questioning her was coming fast, and even the perspective of sleeping could not compensate for the stress of the future confrontation.

Well, ok, sleeping seemed good right now. If she had not been in full alert because of the possibility to be ambushed again by the freaky ghost, Fran would have collapsed to the ground right now and slept twenty four hours in a row. The young woman was dead on her feet, her body not used to skipping a whole night and walking ten hours in a row with nearly no food. Her training with the FBI would have to be a bit tougher next time if she wanted to keep up with the requirements of time travel and medieval roads. If she had not been hiking around in the mountains so much as a kid, and always walking in cities rather than using a car, the young woman would have collapsed halfway from the camp. Remembering how people made fun of her, telling her that she should have been born in another century with her stupid refusal of using too many machine, Frances realized that her little habits might have saved her for once.

As Strider set Frodo down directly into Sam's hands to let him install him for the quick night, he gave her a funny look.

- We need a little fire for I have some herbs to crush into steamy water. However, stealth is our ally. Can you get some material?

Frances, exhausted but happy to be given such a task, nodded. Not a minute later, she was gathering twigs and thorns from pine trees to build up a little fire that wouldn't be too obviously spotted. The threat of the black riders still held, and nobody would sleep well this night. As she took care to produce as little noise as possible while walking into the woods, she heard hushed voices seemingly arguing in the campsite. Turning her head to peek between the lowest tree branches, Frances listened intently. Sam, holding Frodo closely, was trying to convince their guide to do something. His stance uneasy, Strider answered in tones that did not tolerate any argument. Then he left silently, letting the hobbits crouched around a little hearth he had dug in haste. As Frances came back, the hobbits gave her a queer look. It felt natural, after the fiasco of Weathertop, that they would be wary of her. She responded by a wink, which achieved to loosen the cousin's Merry and Pippin's nerves. Sam however, was hunched over Frodo's body and would not let go his defiance. It didn't matter since nothing would come out of it for the moment.

Carefully, the young lady proceeded to pile up herbs and twigs in the little pit. Smoke should be kept minimal, and therefore she had chosen only very dry material. When the pyramid was ready, Frances realized that she had no idea how to light up a fire without a match. An uneasy smile frozen on her face, she turned her back to the hobbits and searched the path for Strider, in case he would be there. There wasn't anybody in her line of sight, so she extracted a lighter from her bag and lit up a little flame at the very bottom of the pile. Carefully, slowly, she corrected the structure of the fire to get more and more embers by adding some sticks and blowing over it. When Strider finally got back, he found a nice layer of logs producing enough heat to boil a bowl of water.

The man opened a leather pouch that hung around his belt and proceeded to work a mixture of dried leave into an unidentified recipient. Frances longed to ask what he was doing, but she preferred keeping quiet. Asking questions was too dangerous for now and would risk breaking her nonexistent cover. There was no way of knowing what a woman from this world should be able to do or not. Therefore, she stayed silent as the man treated the hobbit's wound.

Out of exhaustion, the little ones fell asleep very soon after eating the meager rabbit that their guide had caught. Frances, travelling without any kind of bedroll, was starting to freeze up. 'note for self, she though, next time get a survival blanket'. Not wanting to draw any kind of attention, the young woman was ready to curl up around the rest of the fire when Strider suddenly fixed his intense gaze on her. There was no challenge in his eyes, just a prying interest, and something so much older than his age.

- My lady, he said, using a title nobody had ever called her. Our company stands in great danger, and for the sake of the hobbits I need to know who you are, and what is your aim in this lands.

There it was, the interrogation that she feared had started and there was no way to lie to those intelligent eyes. However, the tone he had used on her wasn't nearly as suspicious as she would have thought.

- My lord, she answered, instinctively responding to his nobility. I do ignore a lot about this world, and I am not accustomed to travelling alone in those parts.

Strider nearly jumped out of his skin as she used this title, but he said nothing. Could the girl know who he was exactly, or was it just a lucky guess?

- I do not wish any harm to come to your friends, and will therefore be parted from you if need be. However, I fear that I am lost.

- Where were you heading to?, he asked. It is not safe for ladies to be travelling alone in those troubled times.

- I…

There is was, the perfect moment to invent a fantastic story of dragons and princesses. Unfortunately, lying wasn't one of her many talents and she relinquished. Her face opened for any prying, Frances looked into his eyes with sincerity.

- I have no idea why I am here and I wasn't heading to any place because I do not know where I am.

Surprised, Strider observed her face intently to detect any kind of deception, but he could only find a strange type of blunt honesty.

- You surely have some friends, a family, somebody that lives around here

- I very doubt that

- Then where are you from ?, he finally asked

- Strider… this is what they call you, right?

The man nodded slowly, trying to assess where she wanted to lead this conversation that went frustratingly nowhere. He had learnt nothing and yet his questions had been very direct. Hs smiled inwardly as he though how the twins would think him rude.

- How come you do not use your own name?

As her interlocutor tensed, Frances bit her lip. She had obviously struck a sensitive chord and wondered if it would help her or seal the man's indulgent spirit towards her. Aragorn, for this was his name, protected his identity and heirloom in the wilds because of his legacy. Even if the strange woman had shown tremendous courage fighting the Nazgûl, he wondered if she could not become a liability. With Frodo carrying the ring, she could well be a spy. However, his intuition told him that she would be true to the group. Never before had his guts betrayed him, and so he took a risk.

- I protect myself and those whom I love, he answered cryptically.

- Strider. I am being perfectly honest with you by telling you that I will never put this group at risk. There are also things in my past that I do not wish to relate because they are part of my history. I come from a place that lies far away from your borders, from a distant land where life is so very different from here. I have no idea what were the beasts I have fought in your company, but they nearly drove me mad from the terror I felt. I ignore what this world has in store for me were I to wander alone. I will not beg you to let me come to Rivendell, for I realize that you are responsible for many lives. If you allow me to accompany you, I will obey any order. Maybe in time I will be able to understand the reasons of my presence here. For the moment I am at loss. If you wish me to leave, please say so and I will go…

The last bits of the fire were fading out, casting a red light over the ranger's features as his mind raced under his skull. Her sincerity has touched him, and he wasn't one to be cheated easily. However, there was much she did not tell, and the importance of his mission made the decision much more difficult. The responsibility that laid on his shoulders was so heavy that it made him hard to breathe, and Frodo's state was getting worse as time went. All alone, it came to him to protect the halfling and the ring no matter what. If he had been travelling alone, the answer would have been too obvious. However, it seemed better anyway to keep an eye on the lady, and the best way to do this would be to keep her at hand. He was totally capable to take her if need be, and he needed some advice from Elrond who would know what to do with her.

- You will travel with us to Rivendell, but behold the dangers that lay ahead. You cannot be safe amongst us.

- I thank you my lord. Pardon me for asking but, would I be safer if I travel alone?, she asked, bluntly

- Honestly I do not know. The things that chase us are the nightmares of many, even among the wisest of our people

- What are they?

- To this question I will differ the answer, he murmured slowly, hoping she would catch the meaning

- Fair enough, said Frances, realizing when to stop pushing.

As the young lady shifted from her seat to curl in a bowl under her jacket, she smiled to her new guide.

- Thank you giving me a chance

- This is what it is, he answered, his eyes burning with the light of the fire, a chance. I will keep my eyes open though.

Frances nodded, she did not expect less from the ranger that to stay alert. His threat, because it was meant to be one, would have freaked her were it not for the good nature of the ranger. This meant however that she would not take watch this night. Curiously, even if the cold weather cut through her bones, the young woman fell asleep very quickly. Exhaustion had finally found its way to her body.


	2. Chapter 2 - Rivendell

Rivendell

The stunning magnificence of the elven city never ceased to amaze her in the short time she walked, and the landscape regularly stole her breath as she followed her guest around the stone corridors. Lifting up the skirts of her embroidered gown to climb a flight of stairs, Frances marveled at the sensation the fabric created over her skin. The smooth aerial silk was the most incredible piece of clothe she had ever worn, and ever if the elves had insisted she accepted it she still didn't fell worthy to wear something so fantastic.

After she had slept, bathed and eaten fruits and dry seeds, the young woman had been presented the rich embroidered dress that she was supposed to wear for her encounter with the Lord of the city. Her mouth agape, the young woman had protested that she could keep wearing her usual clothes, and could not possibly be offered such a privilege, her being a complete stranger. The blond elf that attended to her had protested that it was suitable clothing for a guest of the last homely house, and that she could not possibly be wandering around dressed as a man. She did not speak the common tongue so well, but when Frances asked her if the city was safe, she immediately understood her concerns. Frances would not put up a dress if there was the slightest chance they would have to fight or flee. The rather peaceful sounds coming from outside indicated that there was no danger out there for the moment, but you never knew.

Now that the magnificence of the city stood in front of her, Frances held no doubt that the bastion had never been attacked, whether it be because of the power of the elves or luck she did not know. Incredible waterfalls created a enchanting atmosphere as they passed here and there, jumping down between buildings and filling the air with the characteristic sound of water crashing against rock as they reached the river. The slight breeze played with the volutes of steam, opening curtains of light as sunshine rays descended upon the city. Crossovers and catwalks linked the silvery buildings awkwardly hung over the valley, their sides merging with the edges of the mountains as boulders were turned into architectural masterpieces.

As she walked, her steps resonating whereas those of her lead did not utter a sound, Frances' eyes were overwhelmed with beauty. She felt like running away like a kid and covering the surface in order to lay eyes on every part of the city, and the pull of the river was overwhelming. Water made her feel safe, it always had and probably always would be this way. Sadly though, they were crossing a long corridor leading to huge carved wooden doors, and the anguish came back to claim her. What as she going to say ? If that guy was really as powerful as Strider said, then lying to him was in no way possible.

Before she knew it both women stood in front of the entrance, and the door opened slightly with a squeak. It was quite somber inside, and the opening did not make enough room for her to peek in, so when the blond elf showed her the way, Frances did not hesitate and stepped around the massive door. As she penetrated in the study, the young woman let her hand rest on the old wood for an instant before letting it go and closing it behind her. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the two pairs of eyes that detailed her for the first time.

As she spotted two people in the room, Frances stared at their features as they became cleared, her eyes slowly adjusting to the change in luminosity. Standing a few feet from her was a surprising dark haired elf. From her few hours in Rivendell Frances had only spotted blond ones, and the contrast of the raven color on his grave figure gave him an air of severity rarely seen amongst his people. Ageless pupils were boring holes into her, and Frances stared back without hesitation, taking in the seemingly frozen expression of his face as she contemplated his bearing. That man radiated power in stunning proportions, but she could not help but feel safe even with she knew that there was nothing she could keep from him right now.

Aside from the kingly elf, an apparent old man was casually sitting in a corner of the room, but his bearing did not fool her for a second. His battered face showed great exhaustion, or maybe despair, but there was also a silent determination pouring out of him. Grey hair and beard were covering most of his face, and his clothes did not show anything regarding rank of belonging to any kind of royalty. The plain robes only spoke of hardship and simplicity, there was no information provided in them except that the mean probably was a traveler, and thus likely to be still in good shape contrary to what his posture wanted to show. However, even hidden under this thick layer of hairs, there was something that stunned Frances. His eye were as blue as the ocean, their deep color failing at disappearing under the thick eyebrows, and the luminosity exuded by them was incredibly wrong given the amount of light bathing the scene.

Lifting one eyebrow as was her usual reaction at the sight if his gaze, Frances was surprised to be rewarded with a smile from the old man. As she turned to face her host, she realized that he, in return, had also lifted one of his affuted eyebrows in the exact same manner.

- Frances, finally uttered a deep severe voice, please be welcome here in Rivendell. I am Lord Elrond, and this is who we call Gandalf in the common tongue. You have helped people that were precious to us and for this we thank you. There is much to discuss. Would you have a seat?, he gestured to a dark wooden chair next to her

- Thank you my lord, said Frances, at loss about how to greet the master of the most beautiful city she had ever seen

In a quick instant they had her measured, checking up on her posture as she gracefully took her seat. Her gesture were assured, her dark gaze sincere but also as determined as was possible on a member of the second born. The woman was dangerous, and it was mandatory that they knew if she could threaten or help them before nightfall. Gandalf was totally motionless on his chairs, and he knew that he too was checking up on the girl's abilities in his own way, and probably in more subtle ways that he could. Prophecies were not clear, the knowledge of the origins of the song long forgotten in the great suffering of the Noldor while crossing through ice and starvation. However, few of them still had some hints about who she was, and who she could be. There were no information about what could be her part in the coming war, but the only thing he knew was that she would have a determinant role. The ignorance of it all was making him crazy, but now was the time to swallow one's fears and work for the greater good.

- As you already know, our world in on the brink of war. You have found the ring bearer and helped him already, what are your intentions for the future?

The use of the word 'world' surprised the young woman quite as much as the question that followed. It was almost as if Lord Elrond had known that she was form another planet.

- I have to admit that I'm not so sure about what you mean by my intentions in this war?, questioned the young lady, her face too serious for it to be a prank

Elrond's eyebrows both shot up to the sky at hearing this.

- You are the keeper of time, you surely must know…

- What did you call me?, suddenly cried Frances while standing up abruptly

- The keeper of time, he answered calmly, wondering for the first time if it was possible she could be ignorant of her destiny in middle earth

For an instant Frances stayed mute, slowly integrating the information she had just been given. Those people knew her title, they knew the reason of her presence and they had knowledge about the blue rock. It was the second time somebody called her keeper of time, but the last time the old woman had been dead already when she was confided the rock. Today was maybe the day she would get her answers, and the only though made her heart race.

- And what would that be?, she asked slowly, her eyes searching his as if she could extract the information by sucking it up from his brain

- I am afraid I cannot tell you, resonated his low voice, for even the oldest of us do not know

Silence stretched in the room, and Frances let out a desperate sigh. The disappointment was bitter, and it stroke her like a spear in the chest, taking away blind hope that had risen not a minute ago. As the young woman regained her composure, her features quickly changing from distress to a secured blank mask, her eyes suddenly met Gandalf's.

- You may not know, Lord Elrond, she stated coolly without moving an inch, but HE does…

At those words, the elf lord turned his head sharply, and his dark eyes silently questioned his friend. This movement told her that there was a hierarchy between the two of them, even if it seemed that they worked together on a friendship basis. Clearly no chain of command existed, but the inquisitive look Elrond sent him showed an obvious sense of betrayal, as well as a demand for answers. Both men were powerful, one as a leader, and the other as a pilgrim from what she could fathom. However, Gandalf seemed to be more than a mere man, because the respect he got from Elrond was not the one you gave to an equal, especially when one was being a respected elf lord running an entire city immune to spectrum attack. As Frances turned to the old man in wonder, she saw his eyes twinkle in mischief before he spoke.

- What are you?, suddenly uttered the young woman, regretting her outburst at once because of its bluntness

The look he gave her was quite amused, but behind this there was such seriousness in his gaze that she knew the question had touched home. This man was not ordinary, and the fact that she had felt it so soon obviously surprised him, as well as the elf Lord who now stood dumbfounded in front of her.

- You can feel people, can't you?, he asked

She nodded, unsure about how to answer when she did not know herself.

- I am of the Istari, a wizard that was sent from overseas to track Sauron and help eliminate the threat

- How long ago was that?, she asked, getting straight to the information that could designate him as man or surnatural being

- We came to middle earth by crossing the great sea in the year 1050 of this age, he stated, deciding it was not worth withdrawing information from her. Ever since two of us were lost, but three remain: Saruman the white who heads our council, Radagast the brown and myself, Gandalf the grey

Integrating this information, the young woman wondered how many names somebody that had lived and travelled for possessed. Dismissing the thought but not forgetting it, she did not have to ask the question that was burning her lips as Gandalf pursued:

- I am bound to a human body, but do not age and have looked the same for two thousand years now

- Do you read minds?, she asked sharply, making him laugh as Elrond nearly smiled

- No, child. I am only very perceptive oh human flaws…

Frances nodded again. She had to think, to learn about this place and its mythology. Without is knowledge there was nothing that could be decided properly. As elf and wizard stayed silent, she decided to sit down again and push her luck a bit further by asking about the keeper of time.

- There is not much that is known to others than the Valar, except that the stone you are wearing around your neck allows travels between words, and that the bearer of this channel is called the time keeper. My souvenirs from before are scare, so I am afraid there is nothing more I can tell you on the subject except from what is known in middle earth

- So you know that I'm not from this world?

- Indeed, but it would be better if that remained unsaid

- Of course, she said, sighing in relief that she would not have to hide this

- There exist some very old songs and prophecies about the keeper of time, resumed Elrond, his eyes far away in an attempt to recall them, but they even predate the ages of the trees, and thus have mostly been forgotten, only the words remaining in the oldest of our communities

- And what would those songs say?

- Mostly that the keeper of time would be incarnated as a woman, and that she has a crucial role in the upcoming battle against evil…

- Great, grumbled Frances. Are there any texts remaining?

- I will grant you at will the access to the library, and surely my foster son or my daughter will be willing to help you learn our language and translate it… she has been dying to see you again since you came here

- That would be really helpful my lord, bowed Frances, realizing that for now she did not have any more questions

- I think best, started Gandalf, his grumbling voice startling her, that you should learn as much as you can while staying with us. Are there any skills you do not master that seem relevant for you?

- Uh… apart from languages, history, sword fighting and riding no…, she stated cynically

- You cannot ride?, nearly exclaimed the ever leveled Elrond

- Nope… Horses don't like me… so much…

Letting go the irony in her voice, the elf lord exchanged a glance with Gandalf that looked a bit desperate before sighing:

- Very well. We will discuss this further and arrange some lessons for you. Regarding your origins however, you will unfortunately have follow up with the story you told my son. People in here are mindful and should not be questioning you further…

As a quick commotion could be heard in the hallway, the heavy was suddenly pushed further, interrupting the elf lord. Two dark haired young elves made their way through, their manner absolutely nonchalant giving the fact that they had just made irruption in a private meeting with probably two of the most powerful men on middle earth. Lord Elrond' eyebrow lifted up once more as a greeting, and his severe features darkened. Oblivious of the sour mood, they smiled at their father, for their features were so alike that it was impossible they would not be family.

- Ada, one of them said, you asked for us!

- Yes I did, but could you not knock before instead of interrupting a private conversation?, he growled

- I told you he was busy, snipped the second one

- Oh come on, you were as impatient as I was to check on that lady Estel talked about…

- Estel?, questioned Frances. And the lady, that would be me… And you are?

- My sons, and they should have been waiting outside and thus they will return there and take you to the library. Get your brother or sister as well and see that she gets helps in her research. I must speak with Gandalf. Once I am done I will come to you

Both twins bowed to the old wizard and their father before turning back to the door and showing her out. As soon as the wooden door was closed, Frances blinked a few times to get used to the luminosity and observed the twins. They did not let her time to react as they started asking questions.

- So where are you from?

- What's your father's name?

Impatient to get moving, the young lady ignored their queries and asked:

- So where's that library?

Frowning, the twins did not let it go, insisting that they got an answer. Before she could be rude and interrupt their banting, a yell resonated behind the door with a very angry voice.

- Go!, shouted Elrond, the sound partially covered by a deep laugh that could only be the wizard's

Jumping in fright, both elves turned around and started walking swiftly, Frances following them with much effort.

- This way, they said at the same time, making her chuckle

- So what's your names, sons of Elrond?, she smiled

Smiling to herself, Frances watched as the twins followed their father, the youngest one, Elrohir, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. In spite of their age, which she had calculated to be roughly around two thousand and nine hundred years old, the two brothers had a mischievous air that spoke of youth and eagerness. Dropping the idea of imagining what living such a long time could be like, she concentrated on trying to decipher their character. During the short interval of time they had shared, Elladan had acted like the leader in terms of practical arrangements, but it was Elrohir that had tried desperately to have her talk. The youngest of the twins, even by mere minutes, was really acting like a typical second child, while Elladan took the part of the wise one. However, both of them had cheerful manners and seemed eager to speak with her and pierce the mystery of her venue.

Sighing, the young woman realized how difficult elves were to read. She knew that there probably was a full history behind those two. Their bearing spoke of experience, and they probably were warriors. Fighting seemed inevitable in the insecurity of this world, and she wondered which ill fates they had witnessed. However, whichever had been the experiences in their life, their dark eyes did not betray any of them. The only thing she was sure of was that most of it must have been common for it seemed that both twins were forming only one entity. Rarely had she seen such acquaintance between two siblings, and if the fact that one was finishing the sentence of the other was a clue, there was so much more that was unsaid that it blew the mid away. Three thousand years passed together could probably do that, she thought, leaving the mystery of the twins aside for the moment.

Turning the page of a dusty book while waiting for someone to join her, Frances marveled once more at the size of the library. The huge rounded room was filled up with continuous shelves stretching to the top. The white stone vault reflected the few rays of sunlight penetrating through the high windows, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Most of the books seemed old enough to be priceless, and they literally held history within their pages. Even in her wildest dreams she would not have imagined being allowed to wander freely inside such a magnificent building, but there she was, caressing a book written in common language with unlimited access to knowledge. Well almost unlimited, the only little issue being that she could not speak elvish and all the old books predated the common tongue.

Her first elvish words meant hope, it was the name of Elrond's foster son from what the twins had told her. She had a few doubts about who this might be, and a good part of her really wanted Strider to be the one. Perhaps she was mistaken, but for sure there was something more than a man in the ranger, were it be only fro the deepness of is grey eyes. For the moment, she had realized that if elves did not bear their age through skin or posture, their eyes betrayed it all. Frances was slowly coming to terms with the idea of living a thousand years old, but still she got issues with that thought. However, in Strider's eyes there was a wisdom rarely seen on other men his age, and that intrigued her. Even Maximus, who had suffered a great deal, or the jedi had not given her this weird impression.

When the heavy door was pushed slowly, the young woman stood up, watching a familiar figure as it entered the room without a single noise. The surprise as quite total for both of them, and a little gasp escaped the young woman's lips while he kept his reaction hidden but for a smile. Strider was dressed in elvish robes and breeches, an embroidered bluish shirt covering up his torso below the rich fabric of his jerkin. His clean hair gently framed his face, the color a deep brown that would have been quite impossible to spot without the cleaning process. Now dressed like a noble man and the hardships of the travels erased, he seemed every bit like a king.

She, standing like a statue, was altogether very different from how he had known her during their hasted march to Rivendell. After days of walking and fighting, the young lady had turned more like him in his rangers days rather than to any lady's usual state of being. The strange clothing she had worn by then revealed quite a lot for a woman, but they were men like. Her hair, usually bound tight and worn out by the drizzle, were now falling into wavy cascades down to her waist. Needless to say that their unusual coloring was even the more intriguing on an already mysterious lady. The light blue color of the silk enhanced her tanned figure, and the caramel skin underneath seemed a little out of place in Rivendell, but it gave her a very exotic look.

The young lady standing now in front of him was a subtle mix of strangeness and nobility, and Aragorn discovered in her somebody totally different than what he was used to. That woman had multiple facets, and for the moment they were none that seemed out of place in middle earth. However, something told him that she was not from there, something totally independent from the secret and mystery that hung on her like water was bound to the leaves after a storm. Aside from all those clues and unanswered questions, there was a manner in her that said that she was a stranger to this part of the world, maybe even a stranger beyond any measure. Strider had not been coming to a conclusion yet, there were too many implications for him to understand and much more observation to do before he could reach any enlightment, but he knew for sure that surprises were far from being over. There was something off with her, something he had sensed in the first instant he had met her, blindly going after ringwraith that could have exterminated her in the blink of an eye had he not come. This little element did not prevent him from trusting her anyway since she had been more than faithful on the difficult journey to Rivendell, but deep down strider knew that there was more to it than met the eye.

- Estel?, she asked innocently, waiting for his reaction to reveal if this was indeed his real name

- My lady?, he asked, his eyes blinking in surprise

- What does this name mean?

- It means hope, he murmured, walking briskly to her as she sat at the table without lifting her eyes of him

- Why? Why would Lord Elrond name you Hope?, she slowly said, half to herself

As her companion's gaze focused on something she could no see, it seemed that time suspended for her to contemplate a story she knew nothing about. Finally, he turned to her, and she realized that his grey eyes looked exactly like Elrond's. What it common in middle earth or as scarce as in her home planet? How could there be a parental link between an elf lord and a human? It made no sense at all, but the answer did not lie far ahead.

- Because he wanted me to embrace a destiny that I have refused for many years…

- Er… destiny… it is never easy to be ordered great deeds in the name of destiny, she whispered, half to herself, thinking about our own issues with destiny

Sensing that the subject was getting touchy, the young lady decided to let it rest for a while and so her next question was meant for idle conversation.

- Surely you have many names. You seem to have travelled a lot. In the hills you go as Strider, but what of your given name?

Stiffening further at the inquiry, the ranger turned to her in low motion, and his eyes pierced her to the core. As Frances sustained his hard gaze, realizing that maybe her innocent question implicated much deeper secrets, he finally relented in. There was not an ounce of lie and treachery in her eyes, and if his foster father, that had seen so much, was trusting her in his walls, then so should he.

- I am called Aragorn, but not many know of my name for I am the son of Arathorn

- Ok…, she said softly, not understanding why that should be so much of a secret

Expecting anything but the lack of reaction she granted him with, albeit he had all her attention, Aragorn eyed her with obvious surprise.

- You do not know who my father was…

- Obviously not, and I hope it is not an offence but I have never heard of him. As I told you before, I do not remember much…

Aragorn considered her words for a few moments. If she had been aware of the dying line of the Dunedain, mentioning his father would have at least created a little reaction, but there was none. This told him that she was truly ignorant about all the things of middle earth, or being an extremely good spy. However, Elrond had always been very careful and far sighted; he would not have allowed them to bound if she was representing a danger. As he gathered his courage so as to cont the tale of his family, Frances suddenly got out of her intense concentration and asked:

- I am in no way familiar with your history, and would be grateful to you if you would share it with me but before that pray tell me how an elven lord like Lord Elrond could ever be related to a human family like yours?

As soon as the words got out Aragorn gasped. There was nothing that could link him to the elf Lord, except for the grey eyes. For sure they were not common, and the first sign of the descendants of the Dunedain, but still that was a bit far fetched from somebody who had just seen his foster father in the darkness of his study and never heard of the Dunedain.

- How?, he questioned a bit sharply, not even bothering to form a sentence

- It was just a guess my friend, she said, using this title for the first time to appease him, but there are a few clues here and there. First of all there is your name, and then the fact that you were adopted by a powerful elf lord, and finally there is not so much in common between you two, but your eyes are a dead giveaway…

- Yes, I had though so…, he sighed. You are quite observant for a young woman of your age…

- Well… Better safe than sorry…

She had said that as much for herself than for his sake, but the weird way of speech struck him once more. She had some expressions that he had never heard before, especially on a woman's tongue.

- There are many things to count for a woman that does not remember anything about the earth she walks, he started, giving her a looks that showed that he was not convinced at all by her story

As she did not answer this little hint, Estel started talking about the beginning of his line and the birth of the twins Elrond and Elros. Fascinated by his tale, Frances did not utter a word for hours while she was taught what would stand in her world as history, but seemed so alive still. Strider did not provide an extensive teaching over the Eldar and the second born, since that would have taken ages, but he gave her the main lines. He told her about the choice both brothers had faced, about the line of the Dunedain and Numenor, and about those few elven and human couples that had existed over the years. Hours passed at a fast rate, and soon both companions were digging into maps and dusty books, Frances learning her first few words of Elvish in the meantime. When they got called for dinner this day, the young woman at least knew that Elladan stood for elf-man and Elrohir for elf-knight. She wondered if those names reflected the strong desire of their parents that they choose immortality.

Honestly speaking, try as she might the young woman could not fathom why on could choose the mortal way. Being immortal prevented ugly things like sickness and aging, keeping the elves in full physical and mental capacity over the years, protecting them from human weaknesses. However, as Estel had explained, apart from the many flaws of being a mortal, some elves considered that the little time men were granted was lived more fully, with more passion that what elves were capable of after so many years. Paradoxically, men were prompt to lay down their lives if needed, despite the fact that their passage on earth was so short and therefore so meaningful. Elves had grown detached and distant when men kept fighting with the fury that characterized their passionate will. Where the first born were eternal, dwelling in middle earth like fireflies, the second born brought sparks wherever they passed, and never were they forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3 - A winter's dream

A winter's dream

As the night was settling in, little clouds of smoke were slowly ascending the evening sky after escaping Aragorn's pipe. His grey eyes were concentrated on a particular spot in the gardens below the last house, and his brain was frying dead from all the information he had had to process this few last days. A clear sound escaped in the air, and the crystalline voice made his heart leap with joy. Arwen's laugh had always been so refreshing to him, even many years ago when he was so young. Another hearty chuckle climbed to his ears, and this one belonged to a human. The timbre was lower and so much less elegant, but its expression was filled with colors and emotions he couldn't grasp. Thinking hard for the hundredth time about who could be the woman who recklessly attacked five ringwraith without backing down, Estel could find nothing but void. Who she was and where she came from was a total mystery and her straight forwardness had changed nothing to the puzzle. Elrond, all mighty and visionary, had said he could be of no help. His foster son knew there probably was some knowledge in his father's visions, but for an unknown reason he was not eager to share. At loss of information, Estel was once again in the dark, left to him to forge an opinion on the unusual woman that had landed in his lap a few days ago.

Another form appeared at his side and started puffing smoke. As Gandalf settled himself alongside his friend he just had to get a glimpse of his eyes to know what he was thinking. Aragorn would not ask for information, he knew that anything he was willing to share would come to him unasked, and that the rest would be buried with him. However, Gandalf had no idea about who the woman was, and for once he felt at loss regarding the future. Of course, he had probably known before taking this form, but his once of humanity had hidden many things from him. The wizard's theory was that she wasn't from middle earth at all. The wisdom in him leaded him to have no speculation regarding the location she was from. Knowledge would flow whenever they were needed or wanted, but as for now it was best to accept to stay in the dark. Despite this evident lack of guidelines, the wizard knew that she was going to play a part in middle earth's war, and if it was the best he could fathom for now, it was still better than his smoking mate.

- Some things are just not made to be heard, said Gandalf slowly

- Arwen has always been a god judge of characters, answered Estel, oblivious of Gandalf's cryptic comment

Deep blue eyes met grey, and they understood each other without any more words. The night closed in and two ladies walked slowly past the trees after their evening stroll in the marvelous gardens of Imladris. Up there on the balconies were sitting two imposing figures smoking quietly.

Glorfindel was a puzzle to her. His long flowing hair had nothing different from most of the elves, but somehow it had been his doom against a Balrog of the first order, and still he had refused to tie it up when fighting. This horrific story had been counted by the twins of course, and from the day she had heard it and plenty of other heroic tale Frances had decided that tying her hair was the key to safety. The stoic elf that towered in front of her was nonetheless impressive, and the young woman tried to curb the lump in her throat as he greeted her formally. She knew he wasn't pleased with Elrond's decision to have him forge a sword for her since his secrets were sacred and so was his art. Creating an elvish weapon for a member of the second born was not honorable, and she had had echoes of the row that had opposed the two powers of nature on her behalf. Feeling guilty, the young woman had insisted that she did not need a sword done by the Balrog slayer himself, but the master of Imladris would have nothing of it. Yet, his decision didn't look like it was driven by a stubborn desire, and so Glorfindel had finally relented in creating that sword. He trusted Elrond's judgment above all, and this time would overcome his dislike of the idea because of the troubles times they were facing.

After being instructed that the sword smith would be waiting for her in the morning, Frances had denied her guilt any seat in her brain, and decided to feel honored by the present that would be given to her. She had anyway no idea where her steps would lead her, and knowing that Elrond might have a clue about it did not make her feel better. So there she was, standing in front of the renowned sword smith lair, being greeted by one of the most famous icon of the history of middle earth. She was intimidated to the core, but even if hell was broken loose she would not allow her partner to see it. He wasn't the first charismatic being she had met, and even if that one had defeated a huge fire and shadow monster there was no way she could not manage this.

Glorfindel has felt her from the moment her feet had touched the stairs that led to his den, high above the hill. At first, he had not been pleased to be ordered around like a child by the master of Imladris. Not that Elrond could demand anything from him of course, but his plea had left him in an awkward position. As a legend, Glorfindel was used to being stared at oddly, even by the people of his own race. As a result, the warrior was quite solitary, only hanging out with people of great influence. Even so, he missed his friends and companions from the first age, realizing that no elf could wield such power as the elfs of old. The passing of his own people had filled him with melancholy, and the sword smith did not offer his services to anyone.

When he had caught up with Estel's company many days ago, Frances had shied away and stayed with the hobbits, not catching his attention. Like any human, her wide eyes had informed him that it was her first encounter with elves. Her clothes, covered with grime, had been hiding her feminine forms and Glorfindel had not even realized that she was a woman. To him anyway, she would be a child forever. However, learning that this particular being, so insignificant at first, could be the subject of such an old prophecy, ahd something unnerving. Now he was watching her, his piercing eyes trying to come to terms with such a fact. The girl was trying her best not to fidget under his assessing gaze, and he felt such a struggle to keep control that it made him smile.

For sure, she held a strong strength of mind for a human, but her demeanor showed that sword fighting wasn't part of her skills. As Glorfindel's study passer over her once more, he remarked as well that the unease with which the second born usually moved was somehow lessened. Frances held her head high. She was no hero, and never would be comparable to somebody like this elven warrior. However, she still had some pride. Little by little, she gained some composure. The little she had to offer was worth being respected.

The waves of feelings she was sending were easily picked up by her protagonist, and Glorfindel finally talked, fearing that the girl might explode.

- Have you ever been fighting with a sword?, he asked suddenly

- I have, she answered, trying to suppress the tremors of her voice. Not much though, and swords were very different than yours

- Really?, how so?

Frances blinked, trying to get free of his hypnotic gaze. Last time she had touched a sword was in antic Rome, with Maximus, and the weight had totally killed her arms.

- I used a weapon with a short flattened blade, this wide

Opening her fingers to show him, Glordfindel's eyes went darker.

- This is in no way suited for your morphology, young one, he stated cooly. It probably wasn't so much of a success

Insulted by his rebuke, Frances could not help but note that he was right. It had been very difficult for her to learn this fighting style, and the weight and dynamics of the gladius had not been adapted to her. However, the choice had been very simple: fight or die.

- Sometimes, my Lord, one does not have a choice.

It was the wittiest answer she could dare, but the tone of her voice struck the swordsmith. No one really dared answering to him this way, and yet she had stayed polite. Arching one eyebrow in a kingly manner, Glorfindel was considering how to scold Frances when he heard some rustling leaves. Of course, the young human had not remarked anything, but she was king enough to stay quiet while he swept the surroundings. At least, she could read people's demeanor. As his eyes scanned the hill, Glorfindel hear a muffled whisper.

- Sons of Elrond, he shouted out, be gone, or I shall have to make sure that you are not free to go through this area anymore

Frances, holding her breath, had not heard nor seen anything. Far away, on the top of the hill, she caught a glimpse of a dark woolen cape. It was the only clue she would ever have of their stalkers being the twins. The intrusion though, made her smile. After three thousand years, those two never stopped annoying people. They probably tried to counterbalance their father's stiffness. At least, and it was reassuring, it showed that psychology worked on elves.

When Glorfindel came back to her, the tension was gone. She made a mental note to thank Elladan and Elrohir for this.

- You shall have some training, stated Glorfindel. No elven sword can be wielded by a human girl that does not know how to properly use it. Tomorrow you will start, and when you are ready I will forge your weapon.

And then he was gone, leaving her on the doorstep without any more explanations. On the day after, another elf came to fetch her. He presented himself as his new mentor. Lips tight, head high and stiff posture, her new teacher was so intimidating that she considered throwing herself down the waterfall. Trembling, the young lady followed him to the training ground. Day after day, Frances learned to master her reflexes with a blade. Elven swords were so much different, so light and flexible at the same time. As she nearly started from scratch, her swords master went a bit desperate. Always polite, he forestalled every tentative of humor or wariness. He was the typical elf, perfect, smart, elegant, graceful, and deadly. Frances felt every bit of her humanity as she trained with him, and his eyebrows shooting to the sky every time she fell or made a stupid mistake told her what he thought. The human race definitely was an inferior breed.

After a few days, the young lady couldn't take it anymore, and she found her refuge in books. There, she sometimes met Bilbo. He told her about middle earth stories while they drank tea, and showed her many maps. One day, Estel joined them, in need of some distractions from his duties. Hobbit, girl and king settled around a table to recall the songs of old. Frances was totally enthralled by the legends of Numenor, and those of the first age. She asked so many questions that even Estel could not respond. With time, she was starting to fathom how heavy the ranger's destiny weighted over his shoulders, and she was getting to know the man under the cloak of appearances. As for the hobbit, his jovial self hid something much darker, some kind of melancholy which origin she could not pin point. This day, when Bilbo stated something about eating cakes and went away, Frances dared asking to the ranger about it. Estel's eyes darkened.

- I believe it is the presence of the ring, and its loss at the same time that affect Bilbo, he said, his eyes lost into nothingness

This is how Frances heard about the full story, and no need to say that it darkened her mood. The imminent war motivated her, and it was in a brand new state of mind that she came back to her sword fighting lessons.

On afternoons, Arwen had decided to teach her how to ride. The young girl's dislike of horses had probably shown a tad too much, because the mare she was to mount seemed very nervous at first. Little by little though, she became accustomed to being carried around by this hugs white beast. It didn't mean she liked it though, much preferring long strolls to any king of horse riding. However, when Frances didn't struggle so much with her mare, the promenade with Arwen could be interesting. Standing alongside legendary beings kind kept her days unreal, and Frances felt she was always daydreaming as time flew by. A routine started to set up. A friendship developed with all siblings of Erlond, and little by little her fighting and riding skills did improve. When she had time though, Frances spent it in the library, or wandering alone in the mountains around Rivendell.

Winter came, and with it some ice and snow. This is how she found out a frozen lake at the top of the mountains, a few hours walk from the magnificent city of Imladris. With a little help from the twins, the young lady managed to build a pair of ice skates. This is how her free time was spent while winter's clutches finally settled in the valley. One day, the prince of Mirkwood arrived in the city with a delegation. On the day after, a company of dwarf pilgrims came to visit Lord Elrond's last homely house, some rarely feat indeed. Something was building up, but Frances was oblivious to this, caught into her routine. She would, however, not escape the political dinner that the master of Imladris had organized for the evening. Therefore, as snow covered the ground and it wasn't fit for riding, the young lady escaped towards the lake to release the pressure of such formal dinner.

The prince Legolas, accosted by the sons of Elrond, agreed to an afternoon stroll as his legs ached from the long ride from his homely kingdom. This is how he came to see the young human whose prophecy had been chanted over generations, but of this he had no idea.

Gracefully gliding over the ice was an unusual feminine silhouette, her movements fluently creating a chorography he had never been witnessing in all his years. It was too harsh and energetic to be of elvish influence, and so was she. Turning infinitely around an invisible axis, her long reddish hair was flowing around her as if inhabited by a spirit of its own. Her moves denounced her as a descendant of men, but there was such a mystical dimension escaping from her skidding form that he could not relate to any of the people he knew. His bright eyes narrowing to get a closer look, he finally managed to get a glimpse at her face. Appearing and disappearing from his sight were her delightful dark eyes, her expression most of the time hidden by tangled red hair covering her face while she danced. It was difficult to get a precise idea of her height, but she didn't seem very tall. However, her thin body screamed of muscular and equilibrium control. After all those years fighting evil, the prince knew at first sight how to recognize a potential warrior, and she definitely was. This information sunk into his brain as a shock. There was only one place were women could be allowed to fight, and those women were shield maidens of Rohan. The characteristics of this people were however far from being present in her slight frame, and the young elf frowned.

The dance turned a bit cooler, and there she was, leaning forward and lifting one of her legs to perform a graceful arabesque while gliding backwards. As she extended one of her hands in front of her as to offer the world to an invisible public, a bright smile made its way to her stalker's face. She was in no way comparable to elvish beauty and glowing features, but there was something in her face that he couldn't pin point that spoke to his very being. Emotions were poured out of her like water out of the sky, and her ice dancing allowed him and the twins to taste a sparkly shower. There was so much in those eyes that he wondered if he could ever face them. Elves had lived so long that emotions did not crawl on their faces anymore like it was the case with children of men. Showing feelings was not a way of the Eldar, and they sometimes feared the powerful grip that emotion had on the second born. He had met many men and women while defending his forest and middle earth, but most of those emotions were linked to fright and misery. Her face, however, expressed love and understanding, bliss and pleasure in such a delightful way that the prince decided to carve her features in his mind forever. He did not know how much of her he would be seeing soon…

The three elves were crouched behind a line of rocks a good distance away from the lake so as to make sure that she could not see nor hear them. After the twins had shown her this path leading to the frozen lake high in the mountain, she had given instructions to fabricate ice skates of her own with leather and elvish blades. From now on she had been going up there every morning to dance, and the twins had accompanied her to discover what she intended to do with those blade boots. Ice dancing was a foreign concept to them as elves usually did not crave for ice and snow, but her first steps on the ice had dumbfounded them. It was a rough dance for elvish eyes, but so captivating for their kind that they could not take eyes of her turning and spinning around for hours. Then Greenleaf had showed up, and it was only fair to show him this little secret of theirs to share with their long life elvish friend. It had been just an intuition from Elrohir, but somehow it seemed important that this should happen, so his brother and him had taken the elf lord up the path and there they were, contemplating the surprised struck face of a three thousand years old prince.

Legolas had always been a bit rough himself for an elf, dismissing elvish elleths from his path because of the war, and dedicating his life to the protection of his kingdom. Sometimes his father would yell at him for being friends with men, and in particular Aragorn with whom a strong link had existed for years. The twins had known him since he was born, and truth be told they agreed that Greenleaf was a bit different from his pairs of Mirkwood. As a matter of fact, he had accompanied them and the rangers of the north countless time, and they had fought together against evil. Those links were unbreakable, and they knew that what his father meant by this was because Greenleaf turned out to be closer to their style than Mirkwood's ways. Imladris had been a refuge for men welcomed in the house of Elrond, and therefore his sons had always kept close bounds with the men of those lands. Legolas was an elf in every way you could imagine from a man's point of view, but he was so curious about other races that he loved exchanging with the twins.

- Wasn't it worth a little hiking Greenleaf of Mirkwood?, whispered Elladan from behind him, making him jump in surprise, which usually never happened

- Who is she?, answered the young elf, most intrigued by the dancing woman to the point where he had left Elladan sneak on him

- I fear we cannot tell you my lord, answered Elrohir for his brother, a quite usual deed in Elrond's house

Legolas raised an eyebrow at this answer. Did Elrond emit orders about that visitor of his? Was he not trustworthy of information about the lady?

- Why couldn't you if I may ask?, he asked, dumfounded

- Because nobody knows where she comes from, except maybe for the lady of the woods, and all that we know is that she came with Estel a few days ago and that he met her on weather top…

- That is highly unusual for the Lord of Imladris to receive guests he has no clue about, answered Legolas, intrigued

- Unusual indeed… Especially since she was fighting off five Nâzgul when Estel joined her!, nearly exclaimed the twin

- Elrohir!, told off his brother

- Five Spectra? THE spectra?, asked Legolas, nearly loosing the sense of discretion such was his surprise

- Shhhhhh, said Elladan, we're not even supposed to know that

- The ringwraith are out again then, concluded the blond elf, his face anxious, it cannot mean anything good then…

- What do you mean?, asked Elladan, one eyebrow lifted in a perfect imitation of his father's features

- I bring ill news for Lord Elrond and everything will be spoken tomorrow at the council

The twins faces fell, and the young Prince enjoyed the five seconds of superiority before they started arguing that they wanted to know now. As he was well aware that they might bug him to death, Legolas turned around and cut them before they started complaining.

- I'll relate you the whole story while walking back to Imladris, but first of all tell me more. I thought that humans were so affected by the ghost that they could not fight them. Is she of elven blood?

- No it seems not, answered Elrohir, and neither is she of Numenorean blood since she mentioned a life expectancy of ninety years at the very best

- Ninety years…, repeated the elf, so little time…

There was a quick silence during which the three Eldar contemplated when their life would have ended if they had lived ninety years. It seemed so ridiculously small compared to their eternal wisdom, but all three of them had to admit that the passion that lied within men during a few decades allowed deeds that seemed incredible compared to their short lives. They were not afraid like the first borns were to loose everything since most of the time they had to make the most of the years they were granted. There was a great force in the short life of the second born, and yet so much weakness linked to greed and vanity.

- So did the spectra attack her? How did she manage to answer back?, asked Legolas, curious as hell

- They did not. From what she said she was hiking around weather top and hoping to stop for the night when she heard the little company Aragorn was leading being embushed. She climbed to the top and threw them rocks and daggers before she managed to steal one of their blades.

- She had obviously no knowledge of what they were but she related she had never touched such icy blade in her life

- She fought with a Morgul blade? Against five of them? What of the dread cloak?

Mirkwood's prince had heard that no human could resist the despair cast by the Nazgûl, and it was in his eyes because of Aragorn's blood and numerous encounters that the heir could resist their call. Thinking that a young lady could overcome the feeling and stand up to fight was unbelievable.

- Well you'll meet her sometime this evening anyway, and you can ask her yourself. However she told us that the fear and panic was great indeed, and that she nearly sunk down into a helpless state, stated Elrohir

- Do not speak for the lady my brother, what she said was intended to us and not to anybody else

- You're right Elladan, I hope she is not displeased for I am too talkative, but I am merely counting the tale of her heroics deeds

- Oh pray tell some more my dear twins, do not have me waiting!, exclaimed Legolas, always eager for a good story

- I am sorry my Lord, but I think you will have to ask the lady herself, but she might be busy answering many questions

- Elrond's receptions are not a place to discuss about war, and I do not wish to seem rude to the lady. What will she think about Mirkwood's manners if I so treat her?

A slight smile appeared on Elrohir's lips, soon followed by his brother's.

- Do not worry Legolas, that particular lady does not acknowledges etiquette so much and does not fear being asked questions, although she barely answers them in the expected manner. I am even sure that if you come to bother her too much she might punch you until you leave or lie dead…

Legolas's brows shot up upon his forehead and he got silent. What kind of lady would react this way to an offense instead of calling for man's help or telling her displeasure? A lady that attacked five death spectra with nothing more than a few rocks and daggers perhaps… Even lady Arwen, who was a strong character, did not punch men anymore except for her brothers. Of course, she was far too sneaky to need any violence to come to her means…

Arwen contemplated her charge for a few seconds before she led her to the great arch of the dining room. It was a tradition for elleths to show up after their counterparts, and the hall was crowded from visitors from all lands. The Evenstar, ever graceful and stunningly beautiful, gave an unusual wink to the timid young lady following her. With the help of maidens they had adjusted a dress of clear blue color to the tiny body of her visitor. The lacing covered all the way down her back and blue embroideries covered the skirt with intricate patterns, enlightening the fabric. Long transparent sleeves covered her arms to the middle of her hands, enhancing the long fingers she would flex once in a while as a reflex. The hem showed a slight cleavage, the deep V cut adjusting perfectly to her size while the drapery showed her slim waist. Arwen was really happy with the color and cut of the dress, but she could tell that the young lady was not accustomed to such luxury. Her stance was graceful enough, but her stiff posture showed she was on edge.

The young woman had refused that anybody touched her shining red hair, and she had arranged it in loose curls falling to her waist. The arrangement, she had said, showed her humanity and her human characters, the crazy curls deciding for themselves whichever way they would hang out. This was a way for Frances to stand out of the crowd and claim her belonging to the human community. Arwen had agreed nicely to this eccentricity, dying to work herself on the rusty hair that was so unusual for elvish people, but liking the idea nonetheless. The young woman had to promise that someday she would have her way over her hair, and the pair had set off to dinner.

Frances nearly lost her breath when she took in the length of the huge table. Several other ones were scattered among the hall but the principal one was already crowded with elves, hobbits and dwarves. The race of men was clearly underrepresented, but she got no time to acknowledge everybody since Elrond had no intention to reveal who she was just yet. Penetrating into the room, the young lady cast down her eyes in shyness and went right to the seat she had been attributed, aside to Pippin and facing Frodo. As she sat, her eyes met Gandalf's ones who was sitting a few spaces away, and his friendly smile gave her a bit of confidence. After those years fighting evil forces, Frances had never been in position to be a part of a mundane reception, and being in a dress and making small talk to nobles and well educated people scared her much more than facing a crazy mind manipulator or anything else.

- Wow, you are beautiful!, exclaimed Pippin while she took her seat

- Thanks, she smiled, relieved to be seated next to the international gaffer of the week

- I agree, elven clothes suit you well Frances, added Frodo, ever polite

- Yes yes yes, cried Bilbo while clapping in his hands, I do not recall seeing fairer lady in my years of travels

- Ok guys, she interrupted while turning red like a tomato, no more compliments now, I don't think I can handle it

The five hobbits sunk rapidly in their pot of beer, casting glances and wondering what they had done wrong while Bilbo munched on his lower lips absently. The old hobbit was probably thinking about another story to write down, and Frances felt stupid about telling all of them off because she couldn't take a compliment right.

- I'm sorry little ones, don't get me wrong. It's nice of you to tell me what you think, but I hate talking about myself, I'm not used to have people telling me things like that…

- Oh, people don't tell you that you're beautiful? What are they thinking?

- Pippin…, came Frodo's voice as a warning

- What? Ouch!, he said as Merry's elbow connected with his right ribs. Oh, I did it again…

- Where I come from there are a lot of ladies that look so much better that I do, and I'm just usual, and I don't wear dresses

- Well what do you wear then?, asked Sam, ever curious

- The same kind of clothes that the ones I had when I met you

- But those are men's clothes made for travel, you surely do not wear this all the time do you?

- Yes I do, but enough of me, tell me more about the Shire

As soon as she had launched the subject Frances knew the dinner would pass without any more questions. Soon the cousins were lost in an endless explanation about their region, and Frodo let the subject go because he thought about asking his questions in private. Gandalf's eyes were laughing, and the young woman sent him an unladylike wink when their eyes connected. The wizard was assessing the new addition to their group, and the least he could conclude is that she knew how to manipulate people, apart from being totally reckless. He could still not fathom how the eighteen year old piece of a woman had dared attacking the five ringwraith without any companions, but it seemed that she was crazier than she seemed. Frances was for the moment a big mystery to him, but she showed an odd duality. From the few weeks she had passed amongst the people of Imladris he had concluded that she could be as shy as a deer or as rageous like a lion given the circumstances and he had also seen in her recklessness as well as a very careful and reasonable mind. She was quite of the unusual kind, and he had no intention of letting her out of sight before he figured her out.

On the other side of the table another person was observing the young woman. The elves of Mirkwood sat together on a spot further away from the head so as to be separated from the dwarves that held conversation with the hobbits. However, the prince's keen eyes had not missed the young woman's apparition, and her blushing at the blunt compliments she had been granted. Her skillful topic change had not escaped it either, and his eyes and ears were trying to assess the human with all his might. However, her character seemed to be sliding in his hands like a trout in the river, and after a while Legolas decided to give up and enjoy the company of his peers. There was just no easy way to assess human characters so easily, and the prince knew not enough of the second born to forge an opinion by himself. He would just ask his friend Estel and get some information from the inside. However, his eyes kept wandering to her once in a while during the evening meal, and he realized after some time that it was her hair that intrigued him so much. The rusty color shone like a jewel against the broad fires that lightened the house, and the tangled curls seemed to have a life on their own. In elven people hair was of even color and disciplined like horses, but in her case it seemed like alive fire was dancing around her head and crowning it like a queen's diadem. This was indeed quite unusual, even for men, to bring such colors, and the elves were intrigued. Eventually conversation drifted away from the new human and went back to their home, and Legolas joined back his group with a sigh. The young prince was missing his kingdom.

Thank you for reading my story. You have probably noted that English isn't my mother tongue and therefore you are likely to find some spelling and syntax mistakes, for that I am sorry. I would appreciate anyhow that you leave a review to share your feelings about this part. I have much more already written, but not in chronological order. Therefore I will post when the blanks are filled up correctly.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Council

A single clear bell rang out as Frances walked briskly over the polished marble of the white floor. The maid that had escorted her through the numerous glistening halls of Imladris suddenly stopped and turned around to face her:

- Behind those bushes will be held the council. Lord Elrond is waiting for you now

Then she gracefully bowed, and was gone, her cold beauty disappearing from sight rather sooner than later. Petrified on her feet, Frances knew exactly what she had to do but could not resolve herself to go forward. She had never been surrounded by such ageless wisdom, and saying that she was intimidated to participate to such a meeting was an euphemism. What could she, mere mortal woman of eighteen years old, change to the fate of this world? It wasn't the first time she ended influencing some events that were I much bigger than her abilities, but this time it felt different. This time she did not feel insignificant compared to the people he gravitated around. This time she felt like a scum of dirt embedded on a rock of the magnificent city. Her experience and capabilities were so small and ridiculous compared to elven skills. Try as she might she could not fathom why they had summoned her. The blue rock may have known, but it unfortunately had never given any advice on his own.

So there she was, hidden behind a few bushes with her light blue flowing gown, hesitating to make the first step and reveal her dullness to the highest beings of this world. However, knowing that elven senses might have detected her by now Frances took a deep breath and kicked herself to go on. Crossing silently the little distance that separated her from the council site, the young lady finally emerged in the open air stone room.

Many eyes fell on her as she advanced in the veiled sunlight. It had been only a few weeks since she had come to meet the elves, and a lot of information had been given for her to swallow from different sources. It was still very unclear to her how the big pictures included this council and the finding of the one ring, and all those new races intimidated her. Knowing that ageless being were now judging her and her presence in a war meeting was not reassuring either. As her eyes timidly swept over the assistance, she saw many elves whose faces were familiar, especially the elf Lord Glorfindel who still intimidated her to the core. Aside from Elrond, he was known to be one of the rare beings that had survived the first age and stayed in middle earth. His age only could have been enough to crouch at his feet for guidance.

However, it was not the Elf Lord himself that challenged her coming, since he trusted Lord Elrond on many matters, all of his kind behaving alike. The dwarves, welcomed in the home of elves, did not seem more than surprised to see her appearance, and as she got a few curious glances from them she just smiled back. Familiar grey eyes gazed at her, and Estel nodded in welcome, saluting her last move that would appease tensions between elves and dwarfs by a hidden smile. From Frodo and Bilbo only warmth was given to her, and the only hostility that was thrown to her curiously came from a man. The clear look of disdain that he shot the young lady said much on his opinion of women in matters of war, but before he could voice his concerns Lord Elrond saluted her, cutting short the probable banter that he sensed coming between the two representatives of the same race.

- Be welcomed Frances, he stated without moving. Your participation will be very welcome during this meeting if you feel like sharing your thoughts

- Thank you my lord, she bowed before gracefully taking her place beside the hobbit, who shot her a look of hope

It was no secret that he also felt out of place, and finding somebody he knew aside him, albeit not so much, reassured him greatly. The young lady smiled warmly at him, and reported her attention back to the assembly. Already, most of the participants were eyeing Lord Elrond, waiting for him to open the discussions. However, one man was still rudely staring at her, and Frances could not help but stare back at him, trying to discern if the hostility he poured was due to the circumstances of the meeting or really her presence.

- Here, said Elrond, is Boromir, a man from the south. He arrived on the morning and seeks for counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for there his questions will be answered.

This was how the council started, but of Boromir Elrond said no more, the presentation feeding Frances' curiosity about this strange rusty haired man. However, the turn of the events distracted her soon enough as Gandalf, Strider and Lord Elrond started discussing the status on many lands she was not familiar with. Her ears wide open, the young lady could not help but drink in everything they said, fascinated by the history of middle earth, and wondering here and there about the past of those people who seemed to be lost to them.

Finally, the oldest dwarf started a long tale about the people of the lonely mountain, and Bilbo stopped squirming in his chair as he listened. Glóin spoke about the unsettling feeling that pushed his nephew, Balin, to get back in the south and conquer again the mines of Moria. He counted how Moria had been deserted because the dwarves greed has awoken the nameless fear, but of this great foe he did not tell more so that Frances could not understand what monster stood in the darkness, or even if it was a physical being. Truth be told, it took all her might not to screech when she heard that Balin's company had returned there regardless of it, and that the dwarves had lost contact with them. Who was crazy enough to do such a thing?

The following tale was even more interesting, and Frances learnt more about the seven rings of the dwarves as Glóin told about the dark messenger. Dain's refusal seemed extremely loyal to Bilbo, and the little hobbit had shiny eyes as he contemplated the friends that had gone such a long way to warn him about the enemy. However, the most important thing she learnt in that story was that Sauron considered himself as the master of Moria since he had offered to make Glóin master of the mines. Unfortunately, this also meant that Balin had very few chances to be alive still. Once more however, it seemed that all that interested the dark lord was another ring, and once more the young lady wondered about the sacred jewels, as did the dwarves.

- The ring! What shall we do with the ring, the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies?, finally said the dwarf, using the same words the messenger had stated to lure them. That is the doom that we must deem

They did not have to wait long for an answer since Elrond woke up again and said:

- That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, stranger from distant lands. You have come here and here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so…

Her head nodding absently, Frances could not agree more to what Elrond said. If he had not summoned any of those, it could not be a coincidence that a representative of each race could gather here, in a place where most of them never came, in this time of great need. Herself did not believe in coincidence either, especially since she always appeared with a perfect timing. As Lord Elrond begun the tale of the ring, Frances found herself transported to the times of their forging in the Second Age long ago. The Lord of Imladris told them of Eregion and of the good relationships between Moria and the elves, and of the elven rings of power. As he told them of the second alliance of men and elves, his eyes turned distant, and it seemed like he described in details a scene that passed in front of his very eyes. It was a very lively tale, and the young lady shuddered as she imagined the wasted lands and the last battle of Elendil and Gil-galad against Sauron. It was after Elrond had counted their deaths that Boromir stood and said:

- So that is what became of the ring! If ever such a tale was told in the south it has long been forgotten… That is tidings indeed…

- Alas, yes!, said Erlond, his face distressed. Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have been cast into Orodruin's fire night at hand where it was made…

So the ring could be destroyed by plunging in a volcano. Doing the math quickly, Frances realized that the jewel had probably been forged at an unusually high temperature that scored around twelve thousand degrees or more. None of it was sure deed, but she guessed that it was not point forging a ring in a volcano if you could do it in a traditional forge, so it probably was a weird alliage that needed extremely high temperatures. Getting back to the story, the young woman realized that it was probably no point trying to rationalize this world. She sighed slightly at the thought that maybe there were no scientific explanations to elves and dwarves existence, and her eye caught Glorfindel's gaze for a second. The sword smith slightly bowed to her, which surprised her, and turned his attention back to lord Elrond's story.

Then, once the tale wall fully told and nobody had any comments to add, the Lord of the city called Frodo forth. The hobbit, shaking on his legs, walked slowly to the stone pedestal. His hand reached into his pocket, and with a reluctant move he let the ring fall on the grey surface. Frances expected the jewel to roll over, but instead it just landed flat, like it weighted a thousand tons. Nobody noticed when the hobbit got back to his seat, for everyone eyes were glued on the ring.

The perfect golden color reflected the timid sunrays that glided over the eclectic gathering. Amidst from his unusual size, there was something unnatural in the flawless shape of the jewel. After being instructed about the great wars it had caused, Frances was contemplating for the first time the most powerful weapon of evil. The mere though that such a tiny thing could ruin the life of thousands and corrupt the kindest hearts was ridiculous, but a quick observation around the stone stage convinced her that everything was possible. Frodo's face was tensed, his expression twisted in a painful grimace. As she swept her gaze across the participants she realized that the hobbit wasn't the only one affected by the ring. From angst to envy, all the nuances could be read on the faces of the different races representatives, even on the usual flawless features of the elves. Lifting an eyebrow in disbelief, the young woman concentrated her thoughts on the ring and closed her eyes for good measure, but still she could feel nothing more than the fresh air from the mountains and the weak sunrays warming up the back of her head.

Several comments were ushered but the young lady did not falter from her meditation state, her eyes wide open again in an attempt to look interested in the events. After a while of nothingness, she finally heard it amongst the voices of others. It was a faint hissing, nearly unnoticeable especially since the words were in an unknown language. However, surprisingly enough, the inner meaning of this whispering was crystal clear. With this ring at her finger, Frances would become powerful beyond understanding and protect her friends without issue, fighting evil like no one would, and be revered like a true hero. The pull was intense, and for an instant her feet nearly took off on their own, crushing her resolve on the way. There was nothing she wanted more than helping people while keeping her loved ones safe, and the ring had struck a sensitive chord.

However, none of those proposals broke the surface of the young lady's mind because none of those things was worth dooming a world so beautiful for such incontrollable power. Her very love for the incredible city of Imladris was pouring out of her soul. As she would understand much later, the elves' beauty and kindness that had surrounded her since her arrival were the reasons she was first saved from the ring's influence. Her capacity to impregnate and merge into emotional ambiances had created deep love that would not be dislodged by a promise of power. The simple gift of empathy showed once more its power.

Deep down, the young woman also realized that taking this ring would be against all her principles. After her years in the service of her country, Frances held in high praise the results of hard work and she knew that time was sometimes needed to gain control over destruction tools. She remembered the path she had followed before being allowed to carry a weapon, and the wisdom she had gained by waiting. Today, she knew for sure that she would not misuse her hand gun, but three years ago that was less than sure. Learning from the frustration, the young woman had realized that it took time to get ready for more power, no matter how insignificant the difference was. For those reasons, thinking about the ring was nearly frightening, and she realized that only being older than earth might confer the capacity to wield it. She did not want to be one of the owners; she did not possess the wisdom required for this.

Her decision made, the hissing started to fade and she felt like a fool for pushing away this opportunity. A little voice in the back of her mind tempted to reason with the frustration, but her temper started to rise. However, the anger did not have the expected effect since Frances scowled herself down from being so weak, and managed to shut down any though about using the ring by keeping the envy at bay. She was who she was, no more and no less, and her intuition and courage had always been her strongest allies. It was no use wishing she were better unless she was willing to train for that. The countless hours in her sword master's company came back to her and she smiled. It had been worth it, and would have had no value were it given to her without effort. Trusting in her judgment seemed the only way to shut the radiating power off her thoughts, so that's what she did. Dismissing the signal as irrelevant, like when choosing to ignore pain or hunger, Frances turned off the envy receptors and came back to reality. The discussion at hand could well decide of the fate of this world, and on the same occasion reveal the very reasons why she had been transported to middle earth.

As she lifted her eyes to the little community, Frances realized that nearly no time had passed, and most of the guests were still staring at the ring in awe or horror. The central blond elf however was not gazing at the jewel, but his deep blue eyes were fixed on her instead. During a few seconds his features stayed motionless as he bore holes into her, probably deciphering her thoughts. It seems like he could see right through her, and although that made her uncomfortable Frances refused to lower her own gaze. There was nothing for her to hide, and her deep chocolate eyes sent him back such sincerity that Legolas would have staggered back were he not seated. It was like she offered her soul for inspection, opening the very core of her spirit for him to judge, and the elf felt like he was prying. However, what he saw in her eyes was so pure that he could not help but smile. Seeing the imperceptible movement of his perfect face, the young woman gave him a timid smile, but the exchange was soon interrupted by the Steward's son.

As Boromir's face finally lightened up, he spoke those words:

- It is a gift...a gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay...by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy...let us use it against him!

As the man stood up to emphasis his point, a deep soft voice tried to bring him, back to reality:

- You cannot wield it. None of us can. The one ring answers to Sauron alone...it has no other master

Those words found their mark in Frances' mind, confirming what she had previously concluded. Such an amount of power un-mastered could bring catastrophic results, but the son of Gondor refused to see it that way. As his face contorted in disdain, the young woman realized that the ring must be using the love for his people and sorrow over their loss to taunt him. He turned his arrogant face to Strider and said:

- And what would a ranger know of this matter?

The silence that followed was short, but nonetheless the man did not react to this insult, merely reflecting his pity for Boromir in his ageless grey eyes. However, one of the council did not accept this rebuke so easily, and Frances watched with wide eyes the angry statement of the central wood elf who stood up sharply:

- This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance

Gasping in surprise, Frances turned a questioning look to the ranger. As everything clicked into place a small smile spread on her lips. He had told her of his family, the Dunedain and the line of Elros, but her knowledge of middle earth was not extended enough yet, and she had not made the connection between Isildur and the current situation at hand. The implications for Gondor were huge. Frodo looked stunned, but somewhere his eyes reflected the same relief as Frances'. It all made sense to him, because he too had seen something more in the ranger' ways.

This revelation however, was not to Boromir's liking, and she could understand his reasons. The steward' house had probably been working hard to maintain Gondor's integrity, and the appearance of a dead line king was not good news to their house.

- Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?

- And heir to the throne of Gondor, added Legolas, shaking with anger

Before the confrontation turned bitter, the new called Aragorn turned to his elvish friend in an attempt to pacify the exchange.

- Havo dad, Legolas, said his soothing voice

His face reflecting a bit of confusion, the elf eyed the heir of Gondor for a second and finally nodded while sitting down. Frances had heard enough of elvish to know what the order meant, but it surprised her that the wood elf had relented. Furious as he seemed, there was a deeper understanding between the two warriors than met the eye. Cut down in her reflexing by an angry line from the steward stated that Gondor needed no king; she gazed at the man as he regained his seating. It was not the first time that she saw him this morning, but the pride that had tainted his bearing when she had crossed his path had now turned to arrogance and hostility. It was amazing how his face had transfigured, and Frances wondered if this was linked to his loyalty to the land of Gondor, or rather to the influence of the ring. Perhaps it was a combination of both, but whatever the reason she felt a pang of uneasiness to share the council with someone enslaved by his feelings. It was so weakly human to react by anger and bitterness that it seemed very out of place in this enchanting city.

- Aragorn is right, finally stated Gandalf, using the heir's name fully now that it had been disclosed. We cannot use it

- You have only one choice, added Lord Elrond, focusing everybody's attention. The ring must be destroyed

The revelation made sense, at least to most of the people sitting across the stone room. The dwarf named Gimli even stood up, and his roaring surprised Frances who jumped in surprise:

- Then...what are we waiting for?, he cried while rushing forward

Swinging his axe in a mighty blow, the dwarf crushed his oversized weapon over the ring in an attempt to reduce it to powder. Astonished by this rash decision, Frances watched with wide eyes the axe shattering with a deafening crack. As the dwarf was projected backwards, she could not help but marvel at how little power the jewels held over that stout being. None of them had dared approaching it, even less touching it so the bold move from the dwarf demonstrated an incredible self-control, and a little bit of stupidity.

After the shock had passed, Glorfindel suggested that maybe the elvish rings of power could protect the one, but as Lord Elrond refused, the name of Saruman the wise was spoken. The tension in the wizard's shoulders increased suddenly, and the next hour or so was spent hearing the tale of Saruman's treason. Horrified, elves, dwarves and hobbits learnt how one of their most powerful allies had turned his back to reason, and embraced the dark lord's cause. As the conversation went by, the bell rang noon, but nobody noticed it, except for Bilbo who never missed lunch time. Frodo however, his deep blue eyes wide opened, drank everyone's word like his life depended on it.

As Gandalf gave the council every detail of his adventures, many other stories joined in the tale, creating a complicated pattern even for those who knew much. This is how Frances started to realize how deep the affair of the ring was. It affected every living creature on middle earth, would they accept it or not. A hobbit, Gollum, was mentioned as the former owner of the ring. Gandalf had sent Aragorn to fetch him, and it was only by miracle that he managed to capture the poor creature. His description of the creature was a bit weird, and the young lady felt a wave of uneasiness coming from both ranger and wood elf. It was then that the prince of Mirkwood stood up, and his fair features were covered with shame.

- Alas, alas, exclaimed Legolas, the tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told…

This is how the company learnt that Gollum had escaped, probably helped by a band of Orcs. The wood elves, in their great kindness, had not had the heart to keep him into chains, and the foul little creature had played them by appealing to their good heart. One dwarf though, rose and spoke up in a harsh manner about the concern of elves, only to be told off by Gandalf. There was some underlying story there that Frances did not know about. The tension eased up as the dwarf bowed and sat down, but still some glances were exchanged between the group and Bilbo. Raising her eyebrows to the older hobbit, the young lady was rewarded by a semi smile, like a promise to tell her more whenever all the discussions of the fair folk would be finished.

The talk went on, exploring any solution that could be offered, and one by one they were dismissed. Nobody had the strength to protect the ring, not even the elven lords, and there was no place to hide it that could ensure its safety. Many possibilities were suggested, and many more names quoted that Frances ignored. The dark lord had minions everywhere, and if not all foul creatures obey him, it wasn't worth taking a risk that any of them find the ring. Finally, as moments of silences started to slip through the discussion, she realized that all these people reunited had not found any solution. The giants of this era were powerless, and the young woman shivered. If elf lords, wizards, kings and dwarves could not find a way, then who would.

Surprisingly, it was Frodo who did. His legs shaking, he came up to the pedestal where the ring stood. Silence fell over the place as he said:

- I will take the ring, though I do not know the way.

All eyes fell upon the hobbit in awe. Of all the people present there, he certainly seemed the weakest, and yet his courage would be sung for the rest of times. Shame filled everybody's heart as realization sunk in, for all of them had been in battle before, even Frances. Before anybody could object though, Sam jumped into the circle, crying that his master could surely not go alone. This is how the council ended; hope resting on two hobbits' shoulders as more companions had yet to be designated to protect them on their quest. The unlikelihood of the even itself kept all mouths shut, even those of Elrond's sons who weren't usually the last to open.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Twins

The twins

Birds flying high… you know how I feel… Sun in the sky… You know how I fell. Reeds drifting on by you know I feel. It's a new dawn it's a new day it's a new life ! For me… and I'm feeling good…

Frances could nearly hear the drums starting as she sang this last verse with the drama it deserved. In the chill air of December, a few wild birds did hang around and the wind carried dead leaves along the rocky path. Walking down the lake after a skating session, the young woman knew the path by heart. Days after days she would walk up the mountain, or run sometimes when she felt like sweating a bit, even if she could not compete with elvish stamina. The twins had accompanied her a few times in plain sight, and many more in secret. At first she had not been able to spot them since they knew the terrain so much better than she did, and were binding with nature like no human could. However, as time passed, she had finally learnt to recognize some signs, like the sweet smell they would leave in their trail. None of them knew that she could tell them apart, a deed that was rare enough in Imladris to be celebrated. Not only was the odor was not the same, but there was also more. Elves felt different than humans. They had this incredible glowing energy radiating from their very souls, like a bright light in the night in the dark. It had taken a lot of time and concentration for her to be able to detect their presence but after hours of sitting alone in her room tuning her senses she had finally managed. An elf felt like… it felt a tingling sensation of warmth pouring like a fountain of life into the surrounding nature.

So now she was singing down the path as every day, and she could feel the twins lurking behind her at a good distance. Aware that she had no chance of surprising them even by hiding skillfully she went on with her song until the end.

And I'm feeling good…

Waiting for a few seconds, standing in the middle of the path, Frances observed the close range of mountains spreading before her and closing the valley. As they would not show, the young woman lost patience ad said out loud without turning back:

- Come on sneaky twins, get out of hiding before I get angry

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then two surprised heads popped up behind heavy boulders. Keeping her gaze hard, Frances had the pleasure to see a sheepish expression pass across their fair features.

- That was Elladan's idea, started Elrohir, recognizable by the thinner line of his jaw and the twinkle sparkling in his eyes

- That is untrue, started his mischief companion, ready for an argument

- I don't give a damn!, interrupted Frances. I don't care whose idea it was because I'm not mad

- Oh, you are not?, asked Elrohir, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline

- So you do not mind if we follow you?, stated plainly Elladan in a perfect imitation of his gentleman father

- Nope, she answered, popping up the 'p' like a California girl

- Oh then… We could keep you company…

- Yep

The twins were slightly taken aback by her weird and limited sense of speech, but it seemed that she did not mind them tagging along, so they started walking with her while bickering among themselves, as was their habit. At first very excited about her visit, the twins had started to wonder if the young lady would beat their foster brother at brooding after a few days. She did not talk much, and acted very reserved and ill at ease in their father's house, even if the elves had made great effort to make her days comfortable. After hours of guessing, the twins had just come to the conclusion that Frances was a very solitary woman, like their brother, which made sense because she had travelled alone from far away and into the wilds.

Her reaction had them reconsidering their point of view, and in Elladan's mind an idea formed. Maybe that she acted solitary because she was forced to, having no companion to talk to, and this was the reason why she welcomed their presence so well. What the elf did not realize was that the young woman actually felt very intimidated by her immediate surroundings, people speaking. Be it Elrond, Arwen, Gandalf, Glorfindel or Estel, all those beings seemed to possess great skills and incommensurable wisdom. She feared to speak in their presence because she did not want to make a fool of herself, this was just self preservation. The twins however felt different. Sure enough, their aura gave her dangerous vibes, and they were not to be taken lightly, but still they had this nonchalance about them and childish behavior that made them accessible. The never ending pranks and jokes that seemed to follow their lead diminished this unreachable character that was inherent to the elves.

- So what would you want us…

- …to converse about?, they asked, one starting the sentence and the other one finishing it

- Mmm, I have heard a lot about the first and second age heroes, but not so much about you... Would you care to enlighten me?

She was paying a lot of attention to her speech as was needed. The people around here were sometimes difficult to understand, and she had come to realize that aside from being rude because of her frankness, so was she when using her own home made expressions. Adapting had not taken so long since everything she heard around her was turned in this weird way of speaking. However, most elves did use Sindarin as they spoke, and she still didn't have a clue about it. Now the council was over and preparations being made, she definitely needed to learn. Her first classes started the day after, and she was getting antsy about it, especially since Estel was the one who offered to teach her.

Her return to Imladris seemed much shorter than usual with the twins' presence. They were bickering again at each other because they did not remember exactly the same details of a childhood history that had happened thousands of years ago. The twins had never separated, and therefore all their stories were shared. This duality of points of view was the source of the gentle banter between the two elves, but far from annoying Frances this display of mocked affection made her laugh.

From that day, the fearsome ensemble of brothers started to be associated with the young lady, and more and more the trio could be seen together, the twins counting tales and she laughing at their words. In the time they spend together, a great part of it was spend in the surroundings, at first by foot and afterwards on horseback as the two mischievous twins soon substituted themselves to her riding teacher to take her around the city. Without realizing, she actually learnt a lot from their hunting techniques, and even more from their complementary fighting ones albeit this was really unwanted.

One day that had ventured beyond the borders of the river to get Frances to master steep and muddy terrains with her horse, the little group constituted by the sons of Elrond, Estel and herself encountered tracks that she was unfamiliar with. The muddy holes were very large and deep enough for the beast to weight at least two hundred pounds. As she got ready to dismount, the ranger's hand on her shoulder dissuaded her from doing so. Ahead of her, the twins' posture had changed radically. Even if they were always warier once they passed the boundaries, their stiffness was beyond anything she had known. Frowning, Frances managed to get her mare to take a few quiet steps, which was already an exploit for her riding skills.

The slight noise produced by the hooves was nearly inaudible, but it however alerted Elladan, whose elvish ears were much more sensitive than hers. He turned around. The sharp intake of breath she took was the only indication of the shock that struck her as she met his gaze. His whole face, usually so quiet and thoughtful, had turned into a mask of anger and hatred. The color of his eyes now seemed black, and the sight of not only one, but two furious elves nearly knocked her out of the saddle. If the danger she had sensed first in their aura had never made it to their cheerful surface, it was now the only component left. Darkness seemed to have reached for them, end enveloped the twins in a veil of anger. This was the dark side of them, and Frances released a breath she had not realized she was holding when her lungs started screaming in pain.

- Yrch!, spat Elrohir, his voice betraying the disgust he felt towards the creatures

- We must fall back, came Estel's soothing voice, trying to seed some sense into his brother's mind.

- Never!, exclaimed Elladan, all his wisdom gone as he unleashed his elven sword in a swift movement.

- You get back. We'll meet you at home, Elrohir said, launching his steed at full speed.

- Wait!, exclaimed Estel, extending an arm in order to grasp Elladan's arm.

The elf was however too quick for him and soon both twins were just a cloud of mud disappearing between the trees. Frances, stunned by the change of mood, turned a questioning gaze to the youngest of her three guides for explanations. His face was concerned, and he was thinking fast. His instinct screamed to him not to abandon his brothers to their fate, but they surely could take better care of themselves that him with the young lady to protect. Furthermore, the tracks had not been very numerous. Deciding that he could for once follow their orders, the ranger turned his mount around and gesture his charge to do the same.

- We need to get back to the city swiftly.

- What's up?, she asked, her voice containing a slight note of panic as she didn't know what had happened to her ever funny twins.

- There are orcs around here, let's go !, he answered, putting his heels on the steed's sides as she did the same.

Frances knew better than to question his orders, and so she followed the best she could. Luck was however not on their side on this gloomy day, and as they started ascending a steep hill, her mount gave a sharp whining noise and stumbled, one of her legs stung by a blackened spike. Fortunately for the young lady, the horse collapsed instead of throwing her away, and she could roll out and get back on her feet quite easily. The gentle grey mare was struggling to get back on her fours, but before Frances could react the ranger grabbed her arm roughly and started dragging her away from the mare.

- Get on my horse, quick!, he shouted

The young woman did not object, knowing fully that Aragorn was much more proficient at the art of staying alive on this planet than she was. However, she did not get time to mount the stallion before a whistling noise forced her to fall back, another blackened spear hitting the flank of the brown beast where her head had been not a second before. The horse sent a distressed cry before kicking high and collapsing to the ground a few meters ahead.

- Climb that tree!, ordered a voice behind him as she was once more being pulled in another direction

Her heart ached for the poor stallion and her mare that she had come to know, but nothing could be done before they knew what they were dealing with. Dusk was not so far away now, but the blackened edges of the forest did not come from the natural shadows of the trees. Somewhere in there were foul creatures whose champion had killed their mounts, and Aragorn was seemingly already assessing their numbers. Whereas he did not want to endanger her or rather not have her stumbling around while he fought, Frances obeyed swiftly. She was not ready yet for heavy sword battle against supernatural forces, she still needed her training, and the shadow of the trees could offer a shelter, provided they did not have bow. Luckily enough, no arrows were in view, except from the very skilled spear fighter.

Estel suddenly seized her waist as if she weighted nothing and she braced herself for a clear jump. His impulsion sent her flying to a branch that she caught easily, and in a flick of her wrist she was balancing herself to get her legs to a higher one. Climbing into trees was her entire childhood occupation, and the reason why she had met Mulder and Scully in the first place. If there was something she was proficient at, it was dancing around trunks and branches, hanging over one or two hands, sometimes even none as she balanced herself with the crook of her neck. The bow on her back was getting her into troubles, and she soon had to reassess her abilities with this extra length. However, she was quickly high enough to be hidden by bigger branches.

Giving a look behind her confirmed that the ranger had wanted her out of the way, but intended to stand its ground. Detaching her bow and reaching for a quiver, Frances intended to even the odds and make up for her uselessness in this fight. What came next however made her regret that she had obeyed and shied away like a coward. The ring of steel filled the air as Aragorn freed his two handed sword from the scabbard in a swift movement. They were surrounded, and more than a dozen blackened creatures were now making their way to the lonely ranger. Most of them did not seem very impressive, Aragorn towering over the creatures that she guessed were orcs from at least one head. However, one bulky form slowly approached the grouping, and his proud demeanor showed that he probably was the head of the little party.

- Give up ranger, said a deformed voice, you are no match for us

- I won't, came up his soothing voice, calm an determined

- We will hack you to tiny pieces and get your companion down from this tree. A lovely piece of meat she will be once we will be fed up playing with her…

Frances's blood ran cold in her veins as she took up their sheer number. There was at least seventeen, but more were hidden to her unclear sight from between the leaves. There was no way he could handle this alone, and no freaking way they would manage even by being the two of them. There was no damn thing she could do to prevent him from being killed, and herself to be used like a plastic doll. No… he though, she would die first before she would let them do this. Their smell was utterly disgusting; the relent of their foulness reaching her nose even from her higher spot.

- So what do you say ranger?, growled the bulky form, I will have fun seeing you die…

Frantically searching her mind, the young woman observed as Aragorn detached himself from the trunk to get more space. The leader stepped back, apparently keen on watching the game that was about to be played. Suddenly a light clicked in her head. They had nor bows nor arrows, which meant that they could not take her down. Well, that was a bit different then, she though with a smile. As a yell resonated in the same husky voice as before, Frances refused to watch in horror as the inner circles of the group started moving on Aragorn. Instead pulling on the cord and knocking an arrow, she left the string fly and missed. Cursing under her breath and reloading as soon as possible, the corner of her eyes caught a scene she had not expected to witness.

For sure Aragorn was greatly outnumbered, but for now his dancing black form was digging holes in to the first lines of orcs that had dared approaching him. He was everywhere, moving aside here and kicking there while beheading an enemy or disemboweling another. The energy and anger he poured in this battle was enough to make them flinch, and when his blade struck there was no hope left. His lethal blows were literally raining, the death dance putting him everywhere at the same time. Any moment of hesitation or slowness was punished. Severed members followed his long blade anytime it swung. The orcs, at first over confident and sluggish had become a bit more concentrated now that the heads of their companions were lying at their feet.

Targeting the leader that had his eyes lifted to the tree, Frances finally managed and the shaft of the arrow soon protruded from the orc's chest as he fell to the ground. Cursing out loud, she took a bit of confidence and started pummeling into her enemies. Releasing arrow after arrow, Frances had managed to overcome her shock and had started clearing the closest ranks, giving Aragorn some space when the inner circle was getting closed. However, despite her keen work and the ranger's furious blows, they kept closing on him. The fight was becoming more difficult with such a long sword, and Aragorn abandoned it into an opponent while producing another shorter one in the same instant. The changed had been incredibly swift, but still an assailant had managed to take advantage of it, and while he got ready to stab the ranger in the back Frances released one of her last arrows. For an instant she though that it would miss, but fortunately she had anticipated well the movement of the orc. It didn't, piercing his left shoulder as he lifted the blade.

Then it was over. Her depleted stock of arrows protruding from the broken forms of bleeding orcs could do nothing more for her, and still more were coming. Aragorn's blows were getting weary, and the young lady decided once more against common sense. Launching herself into the branches, she finally ended up a few meters from the ground, behind the group, and she let herself hang with one hand as she produced her sword with the other one. The elvish blade rang into the mess of the battle, and she started shouting.

- Want me guys? Come around and get me!, she screamed, her voice not as assured as it should have been

She was only a few meters from the ground, but still easily reachable from one that could climb the closest branches. The diversion however, worked quite well as several orcs were cut down swiftly by an angered ranger. His shock was immense at the incredible action, but he did not allow himself some time to think about it as he took advantage of the breaking ranks to cut them from behind. This was insanely stupid and clever at the same time because the lure of fresh woman meat took precedence on numerous orcs that rushed to the young lady and started climbing the tree now that their leader was dead and his orders forgotten.

This would not end well, but now that they had taken the bait it was time to get back to gymnastics and play the squirrel. As she made her way up, faster than a little tree mouse, two identical yells resonated through the woods, petrifying the orcs for an instant. The voices were elvish for sure, and the very slight distinctive tone between the two of them indicated that the twins had returned.

- The tree!, cried out Estel, totally exhausted

Neither twins asked for details as one of them rushed up the branches, and the second came to fortify Aragorn's position. In half a minute, Frances realized that the tree was unmoving again. All the orcs that had followed her were now laying on the ground. An instant after, one of the dark haired elf landed on the ground without a noise, jumping into fight immediately so as to join his brothers.

Her eyes bigger than flying saucers, Frances contemplated the orc's doom as they were mercilessly hacked into pieces. If Aragorn's fighting skills had reminded her of a dancer, the twins' way of fighting was now to be compared to the anger of God unleashed on humanity. Destruction was being created around them like a wave of darkness, bodies dropping at an amazing rate as their swords literally flew around them faster than the eyes could see. It was unnerving and distressing to watch them fight, the anger they radiated burning their opponents like holy fire as they slashed, diced and reduced to ashes anything that stood in their way. A few orcs tried to escape, but an arrow stopped them before they had gone more than a few dozen feet. The last one at last fell from Elrohir's sword, while another got pierced through the back at least four hundred meters from her tree.

Silence came back, unchallenged by any living being after the sheer massacre that the forest had witnessed. Breathing heavily, Aragorn wiped his blade clean on an orc's piece of clothing before sliding it back into its scabbard. There was an uneasy feeling in the air, a lurking anger and reproachful looks passed between the three sons of Elrond, but nothing was spoken. Instead, the ranger tiptoed between the bodies to get close to the tree.

- Are you alright my lady?, he asked, getting back to formal speech as he expressed his concern

- Yeah, she answered shakily, coming right down

- Do you wish for one of us to help you?, he asked

- No, I'll be ok, she answered, a bit shocked still

- Ok?, voiced Elladan to Elrohir, not understanding this phrasing

As he turned to his brother in questioning, this one shrugged and got back to the survey of the dead and wounded. Estel inwardly smiled, glad that for once the twins could be at loss while he knew how to translate Frances' words. His anger towards their reckless actions could not be voiced nor appeased for now, so focusing on the young lady seemed like a good start before they had the unavoidable discussion that was necessary. Elrond would be furious that they had left their need for revenge dictate their actions and thus nearly gotten their guest and his foster son killed in the meantime.

As Frances made her way down, carefully stepping because of her soared muscles from the rough climbing, she contemplated the heavy silence. No need to be a genius to figure out what was going on, but still she could not understand how such hatred could animate elven faces. There was an underlying story to this, and she well intended to ask Aragorn once they would be alone again. For the moment though, they had to make their way back, and she hoped that her mare had survived without much conviction since hope was quickly fading.

Estel's hand shot up, and she grabbed it as he seized her waist to make her landing soft while trying not to touch her too much. He was covered in scratches and darkened blood from the battle.

- Thank you, she told him, her face totally sincere

- You're welcome, he replied, bowing to her

- No I mean, thank you for protecting me…

- Ah… Had you not come down I would be dead by now, but that was a very reckless thing to do and I wish to never have you in this situation again, he told her softly

- I was short of arrows, she shrugged casually, I was useless up there

- No you were not, came Elrohir's voice as he gave her back a bundle of arrows, the blood wiped out by his hands after covering the battle ground. All those arrows are yours, and you have killed at least eight of them. Next time take some more…

Frances' cheeks reddened, a part of it from the compliment and the other part because she had not taken enough arrows and had ended up in a very dangerous situation.

- I will, she answered. I am sorry I didn't take more…

- You would not have needed more had we possessed the twins'… angrily said Estel as he strode away

The sudden outburst did not go unnoticed, but none of the elves reacted. Feeing rather uneasy, Frances frowned and suddenly noticed the stench emerging from the blackened ground and already rotting bodies. The smell was unbearable, and the young woman felt lucky that adrenaline was still flowing through her veins because if not she would have thrown up right then and there. Blocking the smell away from her mind, she suddenly turned around in search of her white mare. Dusk was there, and her white form was easily noticeable in the gloomy atmosphere.

- Alca!, she cried out, reaching the horse and falling to her knees alongside its body

Moaning in distress, the young lady checked on the mare, but soon enough she realized that it had probably stopped breathing a long time ago. A blackened blade was dug deeply into the horse's chest, and the scarlet blood had created a pool around the wound. Her eyes filling with tears, Frances hardy saw Elrohir's hand removing the orc's foul steel through her blurry vision. Her hands absently stroke the white horse's mane as her mind blacked out from shock. A few instants later, Elrohir lifted her off the ground and made her mount his stallion. He then placed himself in front of her, and the little company departed in silence.

The ride had gone smoothly, the horses responding much better to the elven twins than to her clumsy riding skills. Frances tried to adapt to the speed by keeping one hand over Elrohir's waist and another over his hip, modeling her moves to his. Other than this effort to keep stable and not slow down the little company, she stayed silent. To the elves, it seemed like she had gone non responsive to external stimuli, but Estel knew better. What went on in the little head of hers was usually inaccessible, but there was no doubt that she kept observant at any time. Several times she had seemed totally catatonic to him, and she had surprised him by quoting things she had seen or understood when all of them had been persuaded that she had not listened.

In fact, Frances was just trying to process whatever had happened earlier, and there was much to do. First of all she needed to deal with the violence and death she had witnessed, included her soon to be friend the white mare. Then there was the creature's behavior, the tale of their origin coming back to her mind, and the actual absence of resemblance with elves. There was also the realization of the risk she had taken, but the success of her diversion. This meant a lot and could be used later as a desperate strategy. When their leader was down, orcs got back to their inner essence and were more vulnerable to temptation. Then, and most importantly, she was trying to remember every move of Estel's fight, and the crazy dancing with which the twins had annihilated every living creature around them. There was much to learn. Frowning, the young lady was wondering about the fury that had taken control of the twins. The ranger's reaction had been different. She doubted that it was an experience born difference, given the age of her elven friend, and she swore to find the truth about it.

Finally, they were home. After crossing the river and following the steep path in the gloom, the little company crossed the arches of the vault that acted like a fortified gate. Their arrival sent the household in turmoil, probably because of their shaggy look and horrid smell. As Elrohir helped her dismount, his whole posture was tense. The lord's arrival followed a few seconds afterwards, his face wearing a deep frown and his grey eyes burning with anger. Daddy was angry, though the young lady, understanding that the twins were about to get a beating.

- Get cleaned and join me in the study, he said, his voice harsh

The glare he wore had Frances' knees tremble, but as his gaze crossed hers his face sweetened a bit.

- Get some rest and a decent dinner lady Frances, this should be of no concern to you

Cowardly accepting the peace offer, the young lady bowed and was taken away by one of the maid. It was never the same one, and she did not bother because she anyway could not remember names. As the elf maiden prepared a bath in silence Frances welcomed this display of courtesy, and did not utter a sound. Once soaked into the warm water, she finally realized how close to an ugly doom she had passed, and as adrenalin rushed out of her veins she started crying. The sobs came without warning, and soon the young lady was loudly shaking her fear and distress out of her mind like a five year old. It was oddly frightening to lose control of her own body like this, her convulsions reflecting much deeper fears and insecurities than she would have admitted, but soon enough she was exhausted and the tears stopped from themselves.

A tray was brought to her room, but the maid told her that if she so wished she would be welcomed in the dining hall. Being in an awkward mood, the young lady ate a lonely dinner before deciding to retire and get some sleep. However, she had not counted on it to be so elusive, and after about an hour watching the ceiling, that was stunning like the rest of the palace, the young lady grabbed a simple set of robes that she could tie by herself, and she threw a cape over it before heading out.

The lights were still on in the dining hall, but not much noise was coming from it. A soft singing voice could be heard, indicating that all guest had now migrated to the fireplace for tale sharing. The clear intonations of the singing elf were soothing for the mind, and Frances slowly made her way down to the bridge that she had discovered some time ago and hung over the tumultuous flow of the Bruinen. In her hand laid a little piece of leather coming from the saddle gear.

As silent as a shadow the young woman glided on the path across dead leaves and mossy patches on the slippery rocks. The heavy cloak enveloped her from head to toe, protecting her head from the wetness of the cold night. Finally reaching the bridge, Frances walked up to the middle, where the vault was flat and the roadway the thinnest. The waterfall vaporized so much water that she could feel the droplets on her face, and the surrounding vegetation hid well the little stone bridge from view. It could have been a very romantic location had she come there with Charlie.

Standing still, Frances murmured a few words for her mare, and threw the piece of leather into the bubbling waters of the stream. There had been quite a connection between her and the horse because the animal had quickly accommodated with her lack of experience. Hell, for a horse she had been incredibly comprehensive, and Frances was grateful for this, she that was mostly afraid of horses. Watching the waters, she let her memories fall back to her first days with the mare, and gave her a silent tribute. All kind of sounds were surrounding her, the bubbling of the water covered mainly all of it but still she could make out the slow ruffling of the leaves under the gentle wind, and the little scrunching noise mice and birds produced as they went by.

A musical voice rose up from the woods, saying something in a language she did not understand, and Frances jumped in fright, startled that she had not heard the owner coming in her contemplation. Switching naturally into a fighting stance, albeit extremely subtlety under her heavy cloak, the young woman relaxed as she recognized the tall elf that was now standing at the other side of the bridge. Appearing behind the clouds, the moonlight was not illumining his nearly white braided hair as he stayed motionless in fear of frightening her. Even if his posture was relaxed and non offensive, his stance was this of a king, and the silver rays of the moon enhanced his fair features as he observed her. The nicely chiseled lines of his face were so beautiful that he seemed like a faërie, ethereal and unreal. Overwhelmed by the presence of the elf, Frances realized that her mind had gone blank and was unable to form any sensible thought. If a minute she was thinking about her sweet little Charlie, now nothing more existed that the prince of Mirkwood glowing softly into the moonlight.

She stood motionless in the middle of the bridge, but even with the cloak covering her hair Legolas knew who she was. Apart from the fact that he could sense she was no elf, her size and posture informed him that she was the lady from the council. Despite a formal presentation in the dining hall, the lady Frances was mostly seen in the company of Arwen or the hobbits. Quite often though he had seen her training with Glorfindel, or riding, but she was often seen alone. Far from making her more accessible, the rare times her had crossed her gaze had dissuaded him from tempting an approach. Every time his people had left him some little space to do as he pleased, she had voluntarily or not shied away from him. Sure enough he had caught glimpses here and there at dinners, and the twins had talked a lot about her, but they had never met in private.

Her present awareness was quite impressive given the fact that Rivendell was one of the scarce places in this world that stood safe, and to his eyes it was useless trying to hide that she was ready for a fight. His long elven years as a warrior had taught him to see things that people usually did not spot, and her posture was very tense right now.

- I am sorry I startled you my lady, he said softly in the common tongue to appease her fears.

- That obvious, am I ?, she wittily replied, stunning him by the boldness and cynical tone of her voice.

The sarcastic remark seemed so out of place regarding the way she was holding herself and the quiet moments they had shared for a few seconds that Legolas could not figure out what she had just said. Her weird vocabulary and expressions did not help either, he that was a prince and whose only human friend was a king to be raised in Imladris. However, for an instant it seemed that she was smiling, but soon enough the brooding mood seemed to sink into her spirit again and she turned her haunted gaze to the waterfall. The move in itself could have meant rejection, but still it also was a significant sign that she considered him as a non-potential threat, which was the closest thing to trust she had ever shown her.

- This is a beautiful place, she told him

As if to mock her, the clouds covered the moon once more…

- Er… It also is beautiful in the dark, even though I can't see…

She was going to complete the expression when she realized that she was in presence of an elf prince and that swearing would end up tarnishing her reputation. Sometimes she wondered what all this fair folk was thinking about her, they that were not sensitive to the torments of humanity. Anytime an elf maiden would cross her way she felt dirty, no matter how many showers she had taken before. They seemed impervious to any human problem, be it hunger, fatigue, illness or anything else such as bad hair style or sweating. Of course, their inherent glowing beauty did not help either, and Frances had never felt so ugly in her whole life.

The elf that was watching her now was taking a few hesitant steps towards her, and his beauty was so overwhelming that she could not utter a word. She felt like telling him not to come closer to her, that she was unworthy of an elven prince company, but still his soft glow and warming features were reassuring.

- I can probably help with this inconvenience, he stated lowly, his voice containing a hint of amusement

Not understanding what he meant at first, the young lady realized that his glowing figure lightened up her surroundings with this faint light, creating a surreal atmosphere so as to help her get used to the darkness beyond his area of influence. Still stunned by the discovery that elf's were casually glowing like fireflies, Frances had never stood in total darkness with one of them, and that was unnerving.

- Thank you master for being the light of my evening, she chuckled while bowing

- You are very welcome my lady, said he, a broad smile covering his beautiful face at seeing her out of her mournful mood

Legolas had been in Elrond's study when Estel, who had requested his presence given the vital information they were bearing, had discussed the event. He well knew what thought were plaguing the lady's mind, and even if he had not thought to seek her, her presence in his favorite thinking place meant something. So there he was, hoping that his quiet presence would help her cope with the first encounter with those foul and ruthless creatures. For the first time in ages he had seen Estel as angry as his foster father at the twins, and his face had been pale as he related the misfortunate turn of things to the lord of Imladris and Gandalf. Even if the lady had already fought by his side, putting her in danger of being tortured by the orcs had shaken his principles to the core. Her potential participation to the fellowship had however not been discussed again, as Elrond and Gandalf had held fast against the three sons.

The twins, aside their very proud faces, were totally ashamed that their anger had nearly lead to the exact same situation that had created their madness at first. If the orcs had gotten to the lady, they never would have forgiven themselves, even for the sake of revenge in the name of their mother. Both stood vehemently against her participation in the fellowship and therefore the lord of the city had ordered them away. Both sons had bowed and left, knowing fully that their father's mission could be vital to the fellowship success in the future. They were due to leave soon, and Legolas knew that this would probably grieve the lady, unless she resented them too much to mourn their departure. As the slight cloaked from beside him sighed, he felt for the first time at loss of words, and he struggled a bit to look for a sentence that could bring her some comfort.

- My lady, it feels natural to mourn the loss of a close friend, may it be a horse…

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew he had been wrong to say anything at all. Frances stiffened, surprised that the prince of Mirkwood had seen right through her again, and it angered her to be so transparent to him. Not so sure about what to answer, she stayed silent. It had been a blissful moment during which she had thrived in the light of a higher being and enjoyed his kingly presence while watching the waters crash and create all sorts of mixed scents, but the charm was broken now.

- I am sorry, he whispered, making her shiver; I did not mean to pry… Are you cold my lady?, he suddenly asked, noticing the movement that had made her shoulders under the cloak

She should have answered no. No, she was not cold, but the deep tones of his voice and the fact that he was now standing so close were making her crazy, and she needed to run away and clear her thoughts. So she did not lie, since she had always been unable to do so, but instead she stated neutrally that she should probably get inside and rest. Her dead voice had the elf frown at her words, but before he could greet her goodnight she was gone without even looking back at him. This night, Frances stayed in her bed for a long time before falling asleep, regretting her harsh words, and a lonely elf stayed nearly all night on the bridge, watching the water fall, wondering if the lady would ever forgive him for being so inquisitive.

The day after, Frances woke early at the sound of chirping birds coming closer because of the cold wind. Dark nightmares had been plaguing her mind, and she felt sickened by the content of her imagination. Dressing up in a woolen dress and fur boots after refreshing her face with icy water, she passed quickly through the kitchen to grab a bit of elven bread and took off for the mountains. Her thick elven cloak was welcome in the icy wind, and the sky was grayish, smelling of snow. Her thoughts were wandering again to the terrible nightmares, and she shuddered in the cold morning. She definitely needed a break to process all this knowledge that had suddenly turned from theoretical to very practical. Was she ready for this? As doubts were plaguing her mind, the frozen lake came into view and she smiled through the little flakes that had started falling down during her ascension.

Soon enough she was circling again on the ice, her hair securely fastened in a French braid, and all nasty thoughts left her mind for a while. Circling and twirling around, Frances enjoyed every moment of her shameless escapade from her studies until two familiar elven figures appeared behind a line of tree. As the twins stepped on the ice and safely made their way to her as if the ice was safe ground, she darted off in her direction.

Both twins had debated about the sense of coming up to seek out the young lady, but her quick escape from the morning had hinted them to do so. It was not unusual for her to run away and disappear like this, but still they felt like they needed to greet her goodbye. The reception they would get however was still unsure. Estel had not gotten over his anger towards them, but still he was used to be in trouble and dangerously close to death. From Frances they knew next to nothing, and it seemed that she had been deeply affected by the orc's savagery and the death of her mount. The girl was sometimes so oversensitive that they wondered how she had managed to travel up to weather top and attacked the wraiths. For sure, now they knew that she had been ignorant of their nature, but still it was a mighty deed for someone so inexperienced with weapons.

Even if Glorfindel was acknowledging some progress in her studies, he was still insistent that she was not ready to face the outside world in any way. The assumption they had done that she had been used to defend her life was not tainted with doubt, even if her actions had been extremely brave. How wrong they were about this they would never know, but now they were expecting quite some anger to be redirected at them. They were however ready to take it, but the young woman's progress in their direction was far from wary.

As she stopped in a twirling motion in front of them, both elves raised an eyebrow.

- Hello mischievous twins, how fare you on this freaking cold day?, she asked, all remembrance of her nightmares forgotten

- We fare well, thank you my lady, answered Elladan very formally

- What about you?, asked Elrohir, once more finishing one of his brother's idea

The young woman took a few instants before answering this question, her eyes switching to the rocky mountains before getting back to the two worried faces of the twins.

- Well, alive I am so I guess that this will have to do

A thick silence followed during which Frances wondered if she could pry and ask them about how the meeting went with their father, but from what they grim faces showed she doubted it was the right question to ask. The second one that was burning her tongue was the reason of their fury against the wicked creatures that were the orcs, but she did not feel in position to make such queries.

Elves were in general used to silence, their numerous years of existence slowly replacing the need to talk by simple observation. However, the twins were not used to her silence anymore, she that had opened like a shell during the past weeks. Her facial expression did not indicate any forwardness, but surprisingly enough there was no anger directed towards them either. About to greet her goodbye and break the new of their departure, Elladan was interrupted by his brother who could not contain his curiosity anymore.

- Are you not angry at us for yesterday's misadventure?

Gritting his teeth in displeasure, the older elf nonetheless waited for the answer that he was most curious to hear. Frances seemed to seek an appropriate answer to this very sensitive question, but even the truth seemed to elude her. Finally, she found a way to express her feelings honestly.

- I didn't get time to be angry. I hid, baited and climbed right back into that tree and you were back. Had I been tortured raped and killed like those foul creatures wanted to…

The twins' faced contorted in pain, one reflecting the other with perfect symmetry

- … I would probably be angry to death, no spun intended, she finished, her eyes having watched everything that was necessary to know that there was a personal event behind their hatred

As the elves fidgeted uneasily over the icy ground, the young lady decided to take the matter in her own hands and extended both of her hands in their direction. Lifting a skeptical eyebrow, Elladan hesitated for a second before realizing that his brother had already seized the young lady's gloved tiny hand and pulled her a bit closer. Shaking his head in disbelief, the older brother imitated his twin, deploring that he would not behave more elvishly. Her hand was really little in his palm, but for once it was warm from the effort, and the contact somehow soothed him. Her grip was firm, and when he leveled his gaze to hers he could only find determination and curiosity. She was stronger that she looked.

- Now, she said, I am not angry at both of you, but I am curious, and …

- And?... he asked

- Honestly I'm also a bit frightened

This revelation struck them speechless, but quite surely, Elladan after Elrohir, both started to remember how ruthless they had been on this day. Surely it would have been folly to think that she had missed the expression of their faces and the hatred that had burnt in their eyes before setting off for an orc massacre. She was, for a human, quite perceptive of elven moods, and responsive too. During their trips never had she bothered them when they craved for silence. It was, to them, quite impressive that she could admit her fear while still holding their hands tight. This demonstration of faith melted Elladan's heart to the core, and a quick peek at his twin indicated the same reaction by his side.

- How afraid are you?, he asked in a low voice

- When I saw the look on your face, I was frightened enough to run away would my steed not grant me to get away from you both

- So you would run away from us? Asked Elrohir, freeing his hand suddenly, feeling betrayed but knowing well that he deserved whichever wrath she could launch at him

She shook her head slowly while leaving Elladan's side and started to fidget on her skates. She couldn't help it, gliding helped her focus.

- I would not run away from you, even if you freaked me out this day. I will not turn my back on you ever, even if believe me, I have seen weird things in my past, and you were far from being yourself. However, trust is always earned, and all I wish is to understand, even if I reckon this is a lot to ask…

- We are not often asked such explanations, started Elladan

- Since everybody of Rivendell knows of our hate of orcs, a few newcomers have ever witness our hunting parties, finished Elrohir

- Then will you talk to me?, she asked, a sparkle shining in her eyes

- Yes we will…, both voices stated at the same time

Then they told her of the taking of their mother a thousand years ago by the orcs as she was on route to visit her mother in Lothlórien, and the tortures she had to endure before they found her and rescued her from her kidnappers. They told her of her sorrow and spiritual wounds that would not heal, and of her passing to the west such a long time ago.

The hard, leveled tone in which Elladan spoke was a testimony of the many years that had passed since the event came to darken their lives, but still, even if their faces were now perfectly controlled, the fury could not be extinguished in their eyes.

As they walked down the path under the now heavy snowing, the twins also informed her that they were to depart in the evening. This though saddened the young woman, but still she could not find the strength to oppose to lord Elrond. He probably had more intelligence in this than she had, and even if this quick decision seemed close enough to a punishment, there probably was a greater reason to it. The trio shared a last meal together, talking about cheerful things to ease the pain of the separation, and then Frances accompanied them under the cold wind to the gates of the city. She found there Lord Elrond, who seemed less than surprised to see her, as well as Arwen and Estel. Many eleven words were whispered, but she did not understand much of it. As the lord greeted them goodbye with a deep bow, the young lady could not help but rush forward and embrace both twins within her arms. The sight was pretty amazing given the fact that she was much smaller than they, and that her arms barely reached up behind their neck to hold them close. However, their responding gesture formed a gentle but powerful hug, and soon she was engulfed into two pairs of strong arms.

They had barely known each other for a few weeks, but the bound they were sharing went beyond measure for such little time. Somehow, the young lady had managed to penetrate their wary hearts, and this deed alone had Lord Elrond smiling beyond the fear and angst to send his sons on such perilous mission. Arwen, usually so leveled and correct, surprised them all by joining in the collective hug. For an instant, lord Elrond saw the carefree faces of all his children laughing again like in old times, but soon enough the twins had detangled themselves from the ladies, and mounted their horses. One last wave to their father and foster brother, and they were gone.

The lady Arwen exchanged a meaningful look with Estel, but then she seized Frances' hand and led her to her own room. Both women spent the evening together, talking about the twins and what fate might lie ahead, and for the first time the two girls laid their hearts bare. Arwen revealed to her the love that had blossomed between herself and her foster brother, and Frances told her about Charlie. No wonder that in other circumstances, the young elf never would have talked about her relationship with Aragorn, but somehow her sorrow had drawn her to the edge, and the new human girl seemed in good terms with both her brothers and her lover, so she trusted her with her most precious secret.

Frances was dumbfounded to realize how trustful the elf maiden was to her, especially since they had not seen each other so much since the first dinner on her arrival. She had never been seeking for the company, being far too intimidated by the Evenstar's glowing manners, but now she realized how wrong she had been. Arwen was the evening star of her people, but her heart was as open as her beauty shone. This evening taught her how sweet and open the daughter of Elrond could be, and very soon she realized how lonely she felt amongst her people. Being the youngest of her siblings, and revered like Elbereth, Arwen did not really have many occasions to reveal that she was in love with a forsaken human ranger. When her brothers were not there, she longed for Lothlórien where some of her friends dwelt. The life of the Eldar was considered sacred amongst the first born, and renouncing to one's immortality was only granted to those of the line of Elrond, therefore, no one could understand what the young elf was going through.

Talking to Frances quite eased the pain, and if she was not expecting it she found more understanding in the young human's words than in any speeches she had had before. Frances' natural empathy allowed her to step in the elf's shoes, and even if she could not feel the angst by herself, the distress that radiated from Arwen found an echo in the deeps of her heart. It had always been a natural ability of hers to be able to understand, and now that the elf had shared her thought her previous questionings about how an elf would want to shorten his own life became clear.


End file.
